


Chasing Cars (even after the story ends)

by Sanctuaria



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Bedsharing, Bisexual Deke Shaw, Bisexual Skye | Daisy Johnson, Canon Divergent, Dekesy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Lemons, Monkeys, Past StaticQuake, Penguins, Road Trips, Season/Series 05, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but just the Deke kind unfortunately, but like right after, but they sure as hell weren’t friends, philindaisy, post-s5, well they weren’t ‘enemies’ per se, wow how did they end up in Tahiti?, zima - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27253804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctuaria/pseuds/Sanctuaria
Summary: In which Daisy just wants to escape, Deke discovers the wonder that is Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and together they hit the open road.Oh, and they might deal with a bunch of past-and-present trauma and fall in love too.Y’know. Just normal road trip things.
Relationships: Deke Shaw/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Jemma Simmons & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons (referenced), Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Comments: 254
Kudos: 104
Collections: AOS AU August 2020, fill the daisy/deke tag with actual content 2020





	1. In Which Daisy Makes a Bad Decision

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this damn thing for a _while_ , and it is finally here, so I hope y'all like it. (Yes, this is also me on the last days of October being very late to AoS AU August! Why do you ask?)
> 
> Set four days post 5x22, and canon divergent. Marked 'No Archive Warnings Apply' for this fic but do beware that the canonical s5 deaths (Fitz and Coulson) do/have happen(ed), offscreen, and the background plot kind of revolves around them and the affect on the characters.

Daisy crossed her arms. “A road trip,” she repeated.

“To where, exactly?” Mack asked, standing behind the desk of the newly-assigned director’s office. The gray walls were still entirely blank; interior decorating didn’t take much of a priority at S.H.I.E.L.D. over world-ending threats and funerals and—

“I don’t know. Across the country,” Daisy said. She looked down. “ _Away_.”

“…I see,” Mack said, an entirely different note to his voice. Her teeth clenched; she didn’t want his pity. She just needed to leave. “Look, Tremors, if you need to talk about anything…”

“Please,” Daisy said, looking up again and shaking her head. “No. They deserve their time together, and we said goodbye. There’s nothing left to say. And Jemma’s thrown herself full-force into the Zephyr upgrades but our best estimate is still four weeks til we ship out to find Fitz. And I…I can’t just do nothing.”

“You can’t just be _here_ and do nothing,” Mack said a little too astutely. She didn’t meet his eyes. He sighed. “You’re not going alone. This is not going to be another Robbie Reyes situation.”

“That’s not what I’m—” Daisy said, stung. “If it was, I would just quake my way out of here instead of telling you, _Director_.”

He considered her. “Well, Agent Johnson—”

“I’ll go with Deke,” she said suddenly.

Mack paused, as if he hadn’t heard her right. Well, that was fair, Daisy wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard herself right either. “What?”

“Deke. He wanted to see the world anyway, right? So we’ll go together,” Daisy said, doubling down on the idea the more she thought about it. Anything to not be here anymore, with the memories of Coulson and Fitz choking her, Jemma’s steely eyes and absolute refusal to be comforted, to see anything but spreadsheets and gravitonium and star charts.

“You’re going to go on a cross-country road trip with Deke Shaw,” Mack repeated. He shrugged his massive shoulders. “This…this I gotta see. Leave granted, Agent Johnson.”

“Great. I’ll call him,” Daisy said.

She’s had worse ideas.

* * *

She had _not_ had worse ideas.

“So, where are we headed?” Deke asked, bouncing slightly in the cloth passenger seat of Daisy’s new van. Well, old van, really, there was nothing new about the junker, but it hadn’t been hers until money changed hands half an hour ago. They’d loaded all their stuff into the back together, Daisy getting serious flashbacks to her life in LA and bringing things like a sleeping bag and car fridge and power strip and hand sanitizer and an extra roll of toilet paper for crappy rest stops and Deke an odd, eclectic mix of things, most of which were food-related.

“West,” Daisy said, pulling the car door closed behind her and tugging on her seatbelt. “Maybe north a bit first too. I don’t have a concrete plan.”

“West,” Deke said, grinning dopily as he thrust his hand into a family-size bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. “North. Awesome.”

“Anything in particular you want to see?” Daisy asked as she turned the key in the ignition, feeling the van rumble to life beneath her. The little hula girl was already suction-cupped to the dash.

“The Great Wall,” Deke said immediately.

“That’s in….China. Entirely different country. Different continent,” Daisy told him.

Deke didn’t seem put-out at all. “Okay then, I’ve also heard of these things where there’s a bunch of water that all comes crashing down at once like the world’s largest shower.”

“A waterfall?” Daisy asked, and he nodded eagerly. “That’s a place to start, I guess.” She consulted her phone. “Niagara Falls is only an hour and a half due west. We can do that.”

Deke grinned at her, tilting his bag so she could reach it. “Have you tried these things called Cheetos? Careful—they make your mouth burn all funny.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **9:14 AM** | i regret this decision already  
---|---|---  
  
_Read 9:16 AM_

* * *

The sound. She had expected the falls to be loud, but not quite this _deafening_. Water cascaded over the side of the cliff in a booming white sheet, torrentially pounding into the river below and throwing up walls of mist that hit them full in the face when the wind turned.

She hadn’t quite expected how _wet_ it would be either.

Deke stood at the edge of the viewing platform, both hands grasping the top of the metal railing as he leaned over it, awed disbelief written all over his face. Around them, most of the tour groups on the semi-crowded overlook were wearing bright yellow ponchos, but neither of them had had that much foresight.

To be fair, Daisy hadn’t exactly ever been to see a waterfall before either, not that she had admitted as much to Deke. Foster kid life generally didn’t include visits to national parks, and though Jemma had gone on about the _fourteen waterfalls here in Peru, Fitz, along with thirty-two different species of primates and nearly two hundred kinds of snakes!_ when they were there on their first mission together, they’d never actually gotten to go once they had the 0-8-4 in hand.

Daisy shivered, this time having nothing to do with the cold spray. Don’t think about Fitz.

A few feet away, Deke looked back at her, grinning, and said something she couldn’t quite catch over the roar.

“What?” she shouted, motioning at her ears. She joined him at the railing.

“I didn’t know there was this much liquid in the whole world,” he shouted back, only audible over the cacophony as he stepped even closer, shoulder brushing against hers.

Wait until you see an ocean, Daisy thought.

“If you fell over, do you think you would die?” he asked.

“Me specifically, or…?” Daisy raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning on pushing me?”

“No!” Deke yelped. “No. I was just wondering.”

“Yeah, I think you would die,” Daisy nodded, still fighting to make herself heard. She consulted her phone, doing a quick Google search. “Yeah, Niagara Falls sees about twenty-five deaths per year apparently.”

“ _Twenty-five?!_ ” Deke called back. “I keep forgetting there are a lot more people now, hanging out with just you guys in the Lighthouse all day. Twenty-five in 2091 would have been…devastating.”

Daisy gave him a sympathetic look, then turned back to the waterfall, breathing in the cool mist and feeling the droplets cold against her skin. Her shirt was moderately soaked, but it was…refreshing, more than anything else. After so many days of straight gray hallways…well, she could only imagine how Deke felt. Or she would’ve had to imagine it, if it wasn’t written all over his face, a boyish sort of joy that made him nearly unrecognizable from the hardened man she’d met in the Lighthouse.

A new thought occurred to her. “You do know how to swim, right?”

“Like, in water?” Deke asked.

Daisy stared at him. “…Never mind.” She rubbed some of the droplets off her phone screen with her sleeve and then held it up. “Want to take a picture?”

“Why would I do that?” he said, puzzled, looking back at the falls. “Pretty sure there are already pictures on the internet, since it seems to have everything.”

“No, like a picture with you in it.”

The furrow in his brow deepened. “Why?”

“I don’t know…to have memories?” Daisy tried. “To send it to someone?”

“Who would I send it to?” he asked, still looking nonplussed.

“Simmons?”

He met her gaze, then looked away quickly, scuffing the ground with his shoe. “Do you think…do you think she would want me to…?” The uncertainty was palpable in his voice, and Daisy felt a wave of sympathy for him wash over her.

“Here, we’ll take one together,” she said, motioning for him to turn around. She opened the camera app and positioned it so they were both in the frame, then took the photo. She shaded her eyes against the glare as she brought it closer to look at it. There they both were, the falls in the background, herself wearing a falsely cheery expression she didn’t quite feel… “Deke, you’re supposed to smile.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” Daisy held up the phone again, snapping another with the tap of her thumb. This time they were both smiling, wind whipping through her hair and almost hitting him in the face, but it…it was a good picture.

“Oh, you two are too cute,” a voice interrupted, and Daisy looked up to see an elderly woman smiling up at them, dwarfed inside a bright yellow poncho. “You remind me of my husband and I on our honeymoon, oh, what was it, thirty-six years ago now?”

Deke chuckled nervously, his ears aflame. Daisy’s probably weren’t that much better. “We’re not…”

“Do you want me to take one for you?” the old woman rambled on. She squinted at Daisy. “You look familiar, dear…”

“That’s all right, thank you,” Daisy said quickly, grabbing Deke by the arm. He jumped, breath coming out in a hiss and his eyes wild, jerking away from her. Unable to deal with his weirdness at the moment, Daisy jerked her head at him, and gave the woman another false smile. “We really have to hit the road. Thank you so much though!” She grasped him by the elbow, steering him away.

“Don’t do that,” Deke told her as they hurried down the steps off of the overlook, Daisy glancing behind them every few feet and dodging tourists still trying to head up.

“She might’ve recognized me from the news; I made a name for myself as Quake in LA a while back and then not too long ago we were all most wanted…”

“Not that,” Deke said. “I mean, grab my arm.”

Daisy chanced a glance at him, not breaking her pace. “Sorry.”

“’S fine.” His hand rubbed over the spot on his wrist as they hurried onward. “It’s just the right one, where the…where the Metric was.”

“Got it,” Daisy told him, keeping her voice gentle. She threw one last glance behind them as they reached the van parked in the visitor center parking lot, then unlocked it and pulled open the driver’s side door as Deke did the same thing on the passenger side.

“So, running away from people who recognize you…this gonna be a common theme for this road trip?” Deke asked once they were on the road again, barreling down the highway at eighty miles an hour and once Daisy’s white-knuckled death grip on the wheel had loosened some.

“Yeah, probably,” she admitted. “Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Deke shrugged, nonchalant, hand already buried in a second bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. “Fine with me. As you said, I have a lot of practice running away.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **6:02 PM** | some old lady thought we were *together* at Niagara Falls  
---|---|---  
| **6:03 PM** | and she might’ve recognized me too idk  
| **6:04 PM** | just for the record, i am NOT having your great-grandbabies  
| **6:04 PM** | ugh why did i even say that  
  
_Read 6:04 PM_

* * *

They stopped for the night in some town off of I-90 along Lake Erie, just past the New York border into Pennsylvania. Daisy parked in a dark section of a Walmart parking lot. Deke disposed of their empty McDonalds bags in a nearby trashcan while she retrofitted the back of the van into a sleeping area, pumping up a leaky air mattress from the 1980s she’d found in the Lighthouse storage room’s disaster supplies section and throwing her sleeping bag over the back seat.

Deke flopped onto the air mattress without complaint, and Daisy got the feeling she could have asked him to sleep outside the van in the wilderness without a tent and he still would have been perfectly happy-go-lucky about it, although perhaps that was just a lack of knowledge about things like bears and coyotes and bugs—or in the case of their current location, the kind of people likely to be hanging out in a Walmart parking lot in the dead of night.

Lying on the backseat, Daisy got definite flashbacks to her time in LA, although Deke’s steady breathing in another part of the van was definitely a departure from that experience. She twisted onto her side, then curled up further, tucking her legs up closer to her chest, staring into the bright screen of her phone. She paused, thumb hovering over May’s contact, then darted upward to press Jemma’s instead, opening their text page from before. Her unanswered ones from earlier in the day greeted her in a blast of blue, but she sent her the picture of her and Deke at Niagara Falls anyway, because at least if Simmons looked at it she wouldn’t be staring at computational tables or jump drive blueprints or whatever it was for today for at least a few seconds.

 **To:** Jemma Simmons

| **12:33 AM** | [IMG_0277.jpg]  
---|---|---  
  
She waited a few seconds, hoping for a reply, then sighed and moved to shut the app.

| **12:34 AM** | _You survived day 1_  
---|---|---  
  
Daisy smiled and typed back.

| **12:34 AM** | kind of a mean thing to say about your grandson :P  
---|---|---  
| **12:35 AM** | _don’t tell him about Fitz_  
  
She stared at the message, the smile dropping off her face.

| **12:35 AM** | i said i wouldn’t  
---|---|---  
| **12:36 AM** | _He doesn’t need to know_  
| **12:36 AM** | _We’re going to get him back_  
| **12:37 AM** | yeah, we are  
| **12:37 AM** | _Promise, Daisy_  
| **12:37 AM** | _He doesn’t need to go through that pain_  
| **12:37 AM** | _It’ll be easier for everyone this way_  
| **12:38 AM** | i promise. Whatever you want  
  
Daisy typed, _It’s not like it’ll come up much anyway_ , then grimaced and erased it. Before she could decide what to say instead, a new text had come in.

| **12:40 AM** | _Thank you_  
---|---|---  
| **12:40 AM** | _I’m glad you two are having a good time_  
| **12:41 AM** | how are things back at the base?  
| **12:44 AM** | _Upgrades are on schedule. I think I have the gravitonium system figured out_  
  
She bit her lip, then typed anyway, thumbs flying over the keyboard.

| **12:45 AM** | how about you? are you doing ok?  
---|---|---  
| **12:46 AM** | _Of course_  
| **12:46 AM** | Jem.  
  
_Read 12:46 AM_

She swallowed when no reply was forthcoming, gently placing the phone beside her head just in case there was another vibration. Her eyes lifted to the window, staring at what little she could see of the stars through the tint until she fell asleep, wondering how five years later she could feel so far from the Skye living in her van in LA with no family to speak of and yet so close, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback is appreciated <3


	2. In Which Deke Learns to Swim (and, questionably, to drive)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The roadtrip continues with a lot of junk food, a couple adventures, and more than a few close calls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp while editing this this morning I literally flinched upon reading the word "Wisconsin" in it, so, that's where we're at, folks. 
> 
> If it helps, this chapter happens to be ~~95%~~ ~~90%~~ 85% fluff, so hopefully that will buoy you all at least for a little while.

Everything hurt.

Daisy groaned, blinking blearily. She moved to stretch and received a roar of protest from her locked muscles instead, twisted into a ball on top of a back seat that had seemed much more comfortable the night before. “That is not as much fun as it used to be,” Daisy muttered to herself, pushing herself up on both arms and shifting into a begrudging sitting position. “Well, it was never fun, but… I think I’m getting _old_.” She made a face at the thought.

“Well, yeah, thirty’s like middle-aged, so…” Deke’s voice said from somewhere behind the seatback. She peered over it to find him already awake and sitting cross-legged on a highly-deflated air mattress.

“Thirty is _not_ middle-aged.”

“Hey, people live past sixty on a regular basis in this time period? That’s great,” he grinned.

Daisy opened her mouth to reply, then was overtaken by a massive yawn and decided she didn’t really want to know. “…Yeah, okay, anyways, we’re staying in hotels from here on out.”

“Cool,” he agreed. “Wait, you have money?”

“How do you think I’ve been buying things?” Daisy asked, nonplussed. “Food?”

“Food is like…a couple tokens. Dollars. Whatever. Hotels are like…lots of tokens. I would think.”

Daisy shrugged. “Sure, but Coulson owes me like four years of backpay at this point since we went underground. Plus I might’ve robbed a few banks a while back. Most of it was distributed to…worthy causes, but I randomly found a stack of hundreds in my duffel the other day.”

“Quake, superhero, Destroyer of Worlds and Robber of Banks,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up and get in the front seat. I want breakfast. And a bathroom.”

Soon they were on the road again, Daisy hitting up yet _another_ McDonalds for the Egg McMuffins and trying not to think too hard about what May would say about that, and then driving half a mile more to the Starbucks because the day she drank McCafe coffee would be the day she was already dead. They lingered a little in the shop, Deke examining the menu with a fascinated expression and mouthing the words _salted honey cold foam_ to himself and Daisy drumming her nails against the wooden table, glancing at her phone every few seconds.

7:58.

She drank some of her coffee, foot tapping anxiously against the ground, promptly burning her tongue. She swore under her breath.

7:59. She’d never been late yet.

“Ready to go?” Deke asked her, appearing at her side.

“Yeah,” Daisy said distractedly, sweeping her phone off the table with one hand. They piled back into the van, slamming doors and strapping seatbelts—“we didn’t require seatbelts in the Trawler, you know, and that was a spaceship, in _space_ , so I don’t see why I have to—”

8:01.

But it couldn’t be. They’d only been in Tahiti for five days at this point. He couldn’t just be—

“Um, Daisy? What are we waiting for?” Deke asked next to her, confused. “Thought you were gnawing at the pellets to get moving.”

 _Thought I was…_ The sheer strangeness of the statement jerked her mind back out of its spiral. “ _Gnawing_ at the _pellets_?”

“Yeah, like impatient, or whatever,” Deke waved his hand. “You know. Old mushroom pellets got really hard if the Blues kept them too long, but if you were really desperate you could gnaw at the them instead of waiting to soak them in water first…”

“I think you mean ‘chomping at the bit,’” Daisy muttered, shaking her head.

“So…are we waiting for something?” Deke asked when she still hadn’t moved. Just then, her phone buzzed, and a text from May lit up the screen, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of it. One word, but enough to know that he was okay. The tight bands around her chest loosened.

“No, we’re going,” she said, starting the mapping app and setting the phone on its customary place on the dash. She started up the van with a twist of the key in the ignition, feeling it rumble to life beneath her. “Where to today?”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **7:02 AM** | remind me in the future how much sleeping in a van *sucks*  
---|---|---  
| **7:03 AM** | i can’t believe i once had sex in the back of one of these, ow  
| **7:37 AM** | i can’t believe Bobbi and Hunter *liked* having sex in the back of these  
| **12:26 PM** | speaking of needing brain bleach  
| **12:26 PM** | i need to teach your grandson to swim and  
| **12:26 PM** | wHY DO THEY ONLY SELL BIKINIS IN THE WOMENS SWIM SECTION  
| **12:28 PM** | …now i’m just wondering whether May and Coulson ever got it on in Lola. ew  
  
_Read 12:31 PM_

* * *

“Are you sure?” Deke said quietly, looking uncertainly at the hotel pool, mid-afternoon sunlight sparkling off its choppy surface. “That’s a _lot_ of water.”

“It’s not that deep,” Daisy assured him. “You see those kids playing on that end? They’re fine. Just try not to kick them in the face when you flail.”

“Great, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he deadpanned, nevertheless reaching down to tug his shirt off and over his head. A shirtless Deke Shaw was not something Daisy had ever particularly wanted to see—a smooth chest and lightly toned abs, paler than she expected but coming from the Lighthouse she supposed it made sense, not that she was _looking_ —but her body seemed frozen in place. The muscles of his arms flexed as he shoved his pants down too, leaving him only in a pair of dark red swim trunks.

_Lincoln had looked good in swim trunks too._

Daisy swallowed and looked away, pulling off her own shirt and dropping it into the rapidly forming pile, followed by her shorts. Her two-piece swim suit was eggplant purple, and she determinedly did not look at Deke as she led him over to the edge of the pool. She sat down on the concrete, the sun-baked stone almost scorching under her bare thighs in sharp contrast to the coolness of the pool as she dunked her feet in. Pushing herself forward, she slipped into the silky water, bouncing on her tiptoes along the bottom before standing up and motioning for Deke to join her, the water only rising up to chest-height.

“C’mon. Promise I won’t let you drown.”

“Ha ha, Daisy,” he replied, but took a flying leap off the ledge and cannonballed into the water, thoroughly soaking her. He came up to her glaring.

“Sorry,” he said, not even slightly abashed. “I thought the whole point of a pool was to get wet?”

“Lesson one,” Daisy said, rolling her eyes. “Floating. Arms and legs out, lay on your back—” He did so, flopping like a fish as water entered his nose and mouth.

“Ack—it _burns_!”

“Hold still,” Daisy told him, batting at his shoulder. He popped up anyway on both feet, spitting out some water.

“Why does it taste like that?” he demanded, a look of absolute disgust on his face.

“Chlorine.”

His eyes widened. “Like chlorine _gas_?”

“Yeah, I guess, but just as a disinfectant for pool water. Why—why do you know what chlorine gas _is_?”

“The Kree were not nice alien overlords,” Deke muttered. He lowered himself back into the water with the caution of someone who had already been burned once, this time managing to float, only occasionally moving his arms or legs for balance.

“All right, good job,” Daisy said when he’d returned to standing, ignoring the way his eyes lit up at her praise. “Okay, next, this is the basic swim stroke—” She demonstrated breaststroke with her arms held high above the water. “You come up for air after each stroke. And with your feet…” She frowned at the semi-glazed expression on his face. “Deke,” Daisy snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “Pay attention.”

His eyes snapped to hers. “Right. Sorry,” he said sheepishly, the tips of his ears red. Daisy demonstrated the kick, then sent him floundering off trying to make it to the other end of the pool.

“Teaching a grown man to swim,” she muttered to herself as she watched him, making sure he didn’t drown. “Not how I imagined I’d be spending the first part of my thirties.”

An hour later, Deke was paddling happily around the pool on his own having taken to it like a fish to water, while Daisy dried off in one of the pool chairs. When he had had his fill—“yes, we can come back later, Deke, nearly all hotels have pools now”—they tromped back up to their room. Daisy gave him first shower as he would take much less time to get all the chlorine out of his hair than she would, and he emerged in a t-shirt and shorts in a waft of lemongrass hotel soap to find her staring into the bathroom mirror at the red tint across her shoulders and upper back.

“How did I burn and you didn’t?” she demanded, groaning. “You’re paler than pale, and you lived in space all your life…”

“ _Hey_ ,” Deke complained. “And, solar radiation. Kreepers made us all get a treatment for it when we were born. No Earth, no atmosphere to lessen the exposure. We’d have all been dead by forty if they hadn’t. It’s simple physics.”

“ _Simple physics._ Don’t go all Fitz on me,” Daisy said with a friendly roll of her eyes, the words somehow making it out of her mouth a split second before remembering.

…Fitz.

Her heart clenched, another wave of grief washing over her. Tears pricked her eyes, but she grit her teeth against them, turning away to give herself a few more seconds to wipe the sudden anguish off her face, the shudder of the slight chill that swept over the back of her neck.

Whatever Daisy’s ongoing issues with Fitz, she wasn’t going to let him go that easily.

She wasn’t going to lose anyone else she cared about.

“Look at those menus and find us a place you want to eat,” Daisy said instead, keeping her face angled away from both Deke and his reflection in the mirror. “I’ll be out in a few.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **6:47 PM** | he only almost drowned himself twice, so, progress  
---|---|---  
| **6:50 PM** | miss you, Jemma  
| **6:55 PM** | and if you need me just say the word and we will turn right around  
| **6:56 PM** | i know you know that but  
| **6:56 PM** | just in case  
  
_Read 6:56 PM_

* * *

The forest transitioned to hills as they journeyed onward over the next few days, sweeping canopies giving way to yellowed grassland and wide, flat highways. Daisy ignored every exit towards Chicago as they passed through Illinois, only releasing the tension in her shoulders once they’d put a hundred miles or so between them and the city still being serviced by the newly hired S.H.I.E.L.D. clean-up crews from the fight with Talbot. She stopped for gas just over the border into Wisconsin, handing Deke a fifty and resigning herself to whatever weird assortment of snacks he’d come back with while she refueled.

The answer to that question was a can of what looked like every flavor of Pringles, several packs of Red Vines, and a whole case of Guayakí Yerba Mate. He tossed her a bag of Red Vines with a knowing smile, and she tore it open before pulling on her seatbelt again, Red Vine hanging out of her mouth.

Deke snapped a picture before she could stop him, Daisy just rolling her eyes and focusing on pulling out of the gas station. She indulged him in a game of Twenty Questions—“yes, Deke, I’m very sure that a chupacabra is an animal and not a mineral”—as Wisconsin fields scrolled by out the windows.

“Yerba Mate?” Deke asked somewhere around the two-hour mark, holding out a can to her from the case he’d stuffed under his seat.

“Uh, no thanks,” Daisy said with a wary glance at it. “And…it’s Yerba _Mate_. Mah-tay.”

“Oh, I just thought it was Australian,” he shrugged, popping the top on it and taking a long gulp. “Like, _Yerba, mate?_ ” His leg bounced against the seat, making Daisy frown.

“…How many of those have you had?”

“Why, is there a limit or something?” Deke asked. “Besides, they’re tea! Nana says tea has many health benefits.”

“…Not that kind,” Daisy muttered, imagining the look on Simmons’s face if she ever heard him say that. Well, maybe she didn’t have to imagine… 

Keeping one eye on the road, she fumbled with her phone, selecting Jemma’s contact. Granted, she wasn’t always the most responsive to Daisy’s messages, but hopefully she would tear herself away from the Zephyr upgrades long enough to take her call. A break from blueprints and general misery would do her good in not burning herself out.

It kept ringing, already on speaker. If she would only _pick up_ …

It finally connected, and Daisy grinned. “Hi, Jemma,” she said loudly to be heard over the car noise.

“I’m really very busy, Daisy, and while I do appreciate the text updates, I’m—” Simmons began, harried impatience in her voice.

“You’re on speaker, by the way,” Daisy advised her.

“It’s just that I’m quite busy on the…project I told you about,” Jemma finished.

“Oh, a project?” Deke asked, cutting in. “Is it anything I can help with when we get back? If it’s tech, ya boy Deke could probably help crack it. Tech was kinda my thing in that dystopian future…”

“Sorry, Deke, it’s…classified.” Even though she’d gotten much better at lying since shooting poor bald Agent Sitwell—oh, wait, no, he was a squidhead, no pity for that dude—it wasn’t one of her better performances.

“Top secret S.H.I.E.L.D. project, copy that,” Deke bobbed his head anyway, no trace of suspicion in his gray eyes. His body practically thrummed with energy. “Loud and clear. Well, I’m sure you and Bobo will figure it out, no prob-lemo—”

“Anyways, Jemma, the reason we called is Deke wanted to tell you how much he loves this new tea he found,” Daisy said.

“Tea?” Jemma asked, a slight lilt to her voice. A sound of interest that Daisy hadn’t heard from her in a while.

“Yeah, it’s this stuff called Yerba Mate, and he’s been drinking a ton of it—”

“Deke, that is _not_ tea,” Simmons admonished immediately. “They bleach _all_ the benefits of tea out of those drinks, and fill it to the _brim_ with sugar.” Daisy decided to call this full-Nana mode, smirking at the open-mouthed expression on his face. “And the caffeine! A little is perfectly fine but as with all stimulants it can cause all sorts of health problems if you ingest too much. I know you’re excited to be in a new time but you need to take care of yourself.”

“I—I will,” Deke said, abashed. “You don’t have to worry about me, Nana.”

“Thanks Jemma!” Daisy said brightly. “Take your own advice, love you. Bye!” She ended the call.

“You just told on me to Nana,” Deke accused once he had found the ability to speak again.

“See?” Daisy said, lips quirking upward. “She cares.”

There was a short pause as he considered that. “Yeah, I know,” he said, eyes darting to meet hers as a small smile took over his face, completely wiping away the indignation. “Also…” He bounced in his seat a little, shifting. “Could we stop to pee?”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **3:23 PM** | i’m gonna kill him  
---|---|---  
| **3:23 PM** | if he doesn’t kill me first  
  
_Read 3:36 PM_

* * *

“Left pedal. Left pedal!” Daisy screeched, one hand clutching the car door handle and the other clenched around the center console, phone clamped between her palm and the cloth covering, screen still open to the messaging app.

“Which one’s _LEFT_?” Deke shouted back, and Daisy braced herself for impact. The van skidded forward another few feet to a shrieking halt just an inch behind the bumper of the car in front of them. “Found it.”

The scent of burned rubber reached Daisy’s nose. “Did you hit the _parking brake_?” she demanded, leaning in to look.

“YOU SAID LEFT PEDAL.”

“That’s not a pedal; it’s—!” Daisy would’ve put her head in her hands if she wasn’t holding on so tightly. “Okay, _middle_ pedal is brake. Foot on the middle pedal, undo the parking brake.” The car jolted slightly but otherwise remained in place, and Daisy sucked in a shaky breath.

The light turned green. “Slowly press the accelerator…slowly…slowly…DEKE I SAID SLOW.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to learn!” Deke shouted back, barreling around the next turn at fifty miles an hour.

“Yeah, ‘cause I can’t drive for twelve hours straight six days in a row!” she huffed, gripping the door handle. Her fingernails made indents in the cloth of the center console. “Speed limit is thirty-five, here, Deke.”

The car abruptly slowed, throwing Daisy forward in her chair. “Well I’m sorry we didn’t have cars in the future, it’s just that there was literally _nowhere to go._ ” His eyes flicked to the entrance for WI-29. “I think I’m ready for the freeway.”

“What?! No,” Daisy said.

He switched lanes jerkily anyway, speeding toward it. “Think about it, no lights, no stop signs, just two lines to stay within. It’ll be fine.”

She had to admit he had a point, but prepared herself anyway. Well, except…

“Merge,” Daisy said, feet braced against the floor. “Merge… Merge. Merge! Get in front or behind of that car, just choose one— _MERGE_!”

“Never mind,” she said once the threat of imminent fiery death had passed. “I’m sticking to driving.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **9:42 PM** | well, i don’t know how genetically, but he inherited his driving skills from Hunter  
---|---|---  
  
_Read 9:46 PM_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback appreciated! Also, any thoughts on moving up the posting schedule to be a bit faster so we're not all still reading this into 2021...?


	3. In Which a Truce is Struck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadtrip tension comes to a head, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asjhdasjkhdhsajd I love you all and your support of this fic (and my minor Dekesy obsession, or despite it) means more to me than you know... ;)

A week in, Daisy Johnson wanted to murder Deke Shaw.

She could do it, too. May had taught her all the right ways to hide a body. She could be two states away by the time they found him, at _minimum_.

And she wasn’t being _unreasonable_ , either. The shit she’d had to deal with—

Three more near cases of vehicular manslaughter.

One discovery of the wonder of Double Stuf Oreos.

Fourteen rounds of Twenty Questions, during which Daisy learned too much about the showering habits of Kree warriors and not enough about why exactly he’d been witness to so many Blues scrubbing down.

_Twenty-two_ rounds of I Spy.

One trip to the National Railroad Museum, one to take a picture next to an eighteen-foot statue of some lumberjack Deke claimed was Paul Bunnings, and a supposed “wrong turn” into Minnesota’s Corn Palace, which was exactly as interesting as advertised.

And no, it totally wasn’t just the text she had received that morning putting her in a bad mood. Nothing concerning about _It’s a bit worse today. Tried to get him to see a doctor, but he says there’s nothing to be done_ , nothing that would remind her that this isn’t just some vaguely amusing, heavily exhausting joyride through the continental United States. That no matter what she said to Mack to get him to sign off on this little trip, she’s _running_. The walls and consequences and life were closing in, and Daisy Johnson ran, because that’s what she did.

Skye ran away from St. Agnes as soon as the cord was legally cut, eighteen and on her own.

Daisy ran away from S.H.I.E.L.D., her team and family, cutting the cord herself in a blaze of banks and bridges and _vigilante terrorism_. She cut it hoping it had been her parachute, leaving her to fall down, down, down.

A team fractured in the ashes of their own misery, and Daisy ran again. They wouldn’t let her help and it hurt, it smarted and stung, and she just needed to be _away_.

Except now she’s got a barnacle on her side, a little immovable tether back to everything she was running from. Gray eyes, Fitzsimmons genes, a penchant for getting on her nerves, and a knack for finding the strangest tourist traps imaginable.

“Okay, my turn again,” Deke said, back in the passenger seat because _Daisy could not deal with the alternative right now_ , another Yerba Mate in hand. “I spy…something…blue.”

“The sky,” she guessed, voice completely monotone.

“Nope.”

“That car. Or that one. Or that one.”

“No.”

“Uhhh…the license plate numbers?”

“Oh, cool, those are blue! I love how colorful everything is in this time, instead of just all gray. But still no.”

“The background of my phone screen?” He gave her a questioning look. “Fitz’s shirt is blue.”

“Kind of green in that lighting, so no.”

“It’s—” She huffed. “That Doritos bag on the floor.”

“No.”

“The writing on your drink.”

“Ooh, good guess, but no.”

She cast her eyes around, stumped. “There’s nothing else that’s blue,” Daisy growled eventually, hands tight on the steering wheel. Her tailbone twinged from so many hours—and so many days—in this van, driving. 

He smiled. “Nope. Keep guessing.”

“I have guessed literally everything so what the fuck else do you see that’s blue, Deke,” she said flatly.

“You. You’re blue.” He bounced a little in his seat. “So, you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Daisy’s teeth snapped together so hard she tasted blood, heat burning her ears and a defensive sort of rage coiling hot and thick in her chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said in a clipped voice, reaching for the dash. She turned on the music, gunning it up with a twist of the volume knob. “Let’s just listen to music instead.”

Deke sighed. “Can’t we listen to something else? We’ve been listening to this CD off and on for eight days now. And it’s… _weird_ …”

“You know, I would but the CD slot is broken and the FM antenna doesn’t work so it’s either this or talk to each other.” Daisy scowled. “And I didn’t choose it, the CD came with the van.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking,” Deke said, eyes still on her. Watching.

“We can pick up an aux cord at the next gas station and then you can have your pick of the stuff on my phone,” she sighed. Handing Deke an entire Spotify library seemed dangerous.

“What’s an aux cord?”

“You know, a…thing that plugs in from the phone to the car to play music,” Daisy answered.

Deke nodded. “Ah, a doodlewire.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“You don’t call them that?” Deke asked, gesticulating with his hands. Maybe miming pulling something apart, or plugging it in, Daisy wasn’t sure. “Some wire or cord or whatever that you keep in your bunk, in case you find some old electronic that they fit.”

“You mean _doohickey_.”

“No, doodlewire,” Deke said, completely serious.

Daisy looked at him, back at the road, then at him again, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips against her will. “You’re messing with me.”

Deke grinned at her, which wasn’t really an answer. “See, talking? Not so bad,” he prodded.

The smile dropped away, and she pointedly turned the music up louder.

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Deke told her after a few seconds, looking away. “Why did you invite me if you didn’t want me along?”

“Because Mack wouldn’t let me go alone,” Daisy said, too exhausted and heartsick and fucking _depressed_ to even try sugarcoating it.

“Well, I thought you actually wanted to spend time with me.”

Her anger flared at the hurt in his voice. “Well, that’s a stupid thought then, because I already told you at the Lighthouse—”

“That’s not what I meant!” he shouted back. “Don’t jump down my throat, Daisy, because when a normal person invites someone to do something with them, especially when it’s being trapped in a tin can with them for twenty-four hours a day, you think it’s because they actually enjoy your company.”

“What, you think I wanted to spend my vacation teaching you how to swim and how to drive and how restaurants work like you’re some kid? You think I wanted—”

“You call this a vacation?” Deke demanded. “This isn’t a _vacation_ , you’re just running away.” He stopped, breathing heavily. “You’re just running away, and you needed someone to run with you, so here I am.”

That’s not…

“You wanted to see the world,” Daisy accused.

“We’re on our way to see the world’s biggest ball of twine,” he said flatly. “Even in my day, that stuff was useless.”

“…Okay, fair point,” she said, blinking.

His voice was soft now. “You push people away, Daisy. When you get hurt. Or scared. You pushed away everyone who cared about you when you left to do this, and now that we’ve spent eight days trapped together and you’re starting to hate me less, you’re pushing me away too. Don’t.”

She was silent for a moment. “I never hated you. Well, except when you sold me to Kasius.”

“I didn’t know you then, okay? And what you were doing was going to get a whole lot of people killed, including me and all of my friends and maybe the last of humanity, so—”

“No, I know,” Daisy cut him off. She met his eyes. “I know.” Her lips pressed together. “Water under the bridge.”

Deke nodded, still looking vaguely unsure, but pressed onward anyway. “I just wanna help.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I mean, if—if you need someone, to talk to or whatever, I’m here.”

Fitz. Coulson. The ever-present feeling that things were _changing_ , things that wouldn’t ever be the same.

Family, as she had known it, ripped away again or falling apart and crumbling around her.

“Thank you,” she said, averting her gaze to face the open road again. “I just…I just need to keep driving.”

After a moment, Deke nodded, and Daisy felt the tension ease as he settled back in his seat, tossing a piece of caramel popcorn in the air and catching it in his mouth. “World’s biggest ball of twine. Can’t wait.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **12:42 AM** | okay i’m putting off murder  
---|---|---  
| **12:42 AM** | for now  
| **12:43 AM** | he was actually kind of…nice  
| **12:48 AM** | _I told you he could be sweet_  
| **12:48 AM** | jemma it’s almost three in New York are you getting any sleep??? go to bed  
| **12:48 AM** | or i’ll tell May on u  
  
_Read 12:49 AM_

* * *

Their tentative truce lasted them through the rest of Minnesota, and the entirety of North Dakota, Montana, and Wyoming, including brief stops in Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks along the way. At Glacier, Deke pulled Daisy back from tumbling down a fairly steep mountainside after her foot slipped on a stray patch of ice, and in Yellowstone, she stopped him from falling into an incandescent hot spring smelling strongly of rotten eggs, so they were pretty much even. Daisy did her best not to let the dark pallor of her thoughts spill over onto Deke in the form of cutting words or scathing remarks, and he didn’t speak about the fact that Daisy occasionally woke up in the next bed over murmuring Coulson’s name, mumbling pleas for him to _stay_ and _at least try to live, please_.

He tried to drive a few more times, each less disastrous than the first, but a storm had been on the horizon since they entered Oregon, and Daisy took back over so as not to tempt fate. Sure enough, the rain started coming down less than an hour after they made the switch at a small diner off the highway, intent on getting at least a couple hundred miles further before stopping for the night. Water pounded the roof of the van, and Daisy peered through the darkness to see the reflectors on the road in front of her, windshield wipers swiping back and forth full blast.

A shock of white-purple light burst from the sky somewhere to their right, followed several seconds later by a boom of thunder that seemed to reverberate through the entire van.

“Cool,” Deke breathed, his face pressed up near the window.

_Less cool if we get hit_ , Daisy thought but didn’t say. Maybe he knew how dangerous it was—it was always a crapshoot knowing what information about Earth had survived to 2091—or maybe he didn’t, but if he didn’t, telling the guy who spent the first month of his outdoor outings on an unbroken planet with his pants tucked into his shoes how dangerous lightning was was probably not the best idea, especially since it didn’t look like the storm would be stopping anytime soon.

Another bolt of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating a road sign reading _Wallowa - 3 mi_ , followed by a clap of thunder.

The van jerked underneath them, the wheel becoming loose and fluid in Daisy’s hands. The floating sensation increased, sending them drifting toward the shoulder. There was a vague _thump_ as the tires made contact with the road again, and she gripped the wheel tightly, turning it back between the lines.

“Was that supposed to happen?”

“Maybe we’ll just stop in Wallowa for the night,” Daisy said instead of answering, jerking her head toward the phone on Deke’s lap. “Check if there’s a hotel?”

“Uh, yeah, one,” Deke said, his face awash in the white glow of the phone. “Mingo Motel.”

“Great,” Daisy said, activating her turn signal and taking the next exit. Deke called out directions which Daisy did her best to follow despite not being able to read a single street sign or see much of the town at all with the rain lashing the windows, but in another few minutes they pulled into a parking lot lit by a bright neon sign reading MINGO MOTEL, and, thankfully, VACANCY. Daisy grabbed her overnight bag and her phone and exchanged a _Ready?_ glance with Deke before forcefully pushing open the door to the van and bolting outside, slamming it shut and making a break for the motel’s front lobby. Frigid rain pelted her from overhead, soaking her shirt and pants almost immediately and causing her hair to stick to her forehead. She yanked the glass lobby door open, the interior lit invitingly with yellow lamps, and practically threw herself across the welcome mat, Deke skidding inside in a shower of muddy water right behind her.

The receptionist behind the front desk looked up, and Daisy tried for some semblance of dignity as she approached, ignoring the way her shoes squelched and Deke’s vintage 1988 Jordans made a shrill squeak across the linoleum with every step he took.

“Hi, we’d like to get a room for the night please, separate beds?” Daisy requested.

The receptionist nodded, consulting his computer. “It looks like all of our double bed rooms are currently booked. We only have one room available right now, and it’s a single bed.” His gaze slid from her to Deke and back again.

Fuck.

No…

_Fuckkkk._

“Are there…any _other_ hotels in…Wallowa?” Daisy tried, mouth dry.

The receptionist shook his head sympathetically. “It is a king bed, if that helps…”

One second passed, Deke silent at her shoulder where she refused to look at him. Two. Thunder boomed outside. Water dripped from the tips of her sodden hair, making a small puddle around her feet. “We’ll take it,” Daisy said finally, sliding over her credit card. She signed the bill presented to her, though the paper was pretty soggy afterwards, and then was given the keycard.

“Room 12, straight through that doorway and to the left,” the receptionist told her.

“Thanks.”

They made it all the way outside into the courtyard—thankfully protected from the elements by a large overhang—before Deke started talking. “I can sleep in the van.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daisy muttered, turning and scanning the numbers above the door. 10…11…12.

He caught her wrist just as she approached it with the keycard at the ready, the heat of his hand burning into her skin. “No, really, Daisy, I can. It’s warm and…not _that_ leaky.”

“I’m not making you sleep in the van,” she told him, meeting his eyes for the first time. Sincerity burned within them. “I’m not that cruel, Deke.” She tapped the keycard against the panel, then twisted the door handle, pushing inward.

“It’s not cruel; it’s about what you’re comfortable with,” he argued. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” She entered the room amidst a waft of warm air, feeling along the wall for a light switch and bathing the room in a sudden deluge of yellow light. A single bed was situated at the center of the room, a rustic wooden headboard and cabin-like wallpaper to match the rest of the motel’s woodsy aesthetic. “Or the floor, even,” Deke said.

“It’s fine,” Daisy told him, staring at the downturned sheets. “We’re both adults, and the bed’s plenty big for both of us.”

Actually, a king bed had never looked so small before.

The last time she had shared a bed…

Well, the last time she had shared a bed had been with May after getting the inhibitor forcefully removed from her neck—her former S.O. awake and propped up against the headboard, keeping watch as she stroked one hand over Daisy’s hair and literally the only reason she felt safe at night—but the last time she had _shared a bed_ …

Daisy dropped her bag on one side, then rifled through it for a change of clothes and a toothbrush before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Closing her eyes, she let her forehead bang against the mirror, sucking in a deep breath.

When she came out again, Deke was rifling through his own bag. She pulled back the covers on the side she had claimed and plugged in her phone to the wall outlet beside it, crawling in and leaning up against the headboard. “Just stay on your side and we’ll be fine,” Daisy said. “And, uh, wear a shirt.”

“What, can’t handle it if I don’t?” Deke asked. His ears immediately flushed red, his eyes widening as he realized what he’d said. “Sorry! Sorry, I wasn’t thinking—I’m so sorry.”

But Daisy was already laughing, _really_ laughing, almost doubled over and the mortified look on his face as he tried to backtrack only increased it. He disappeared, pink-cheeked, into the bathroom, and only emerged some ten minutes later with some semblance of his usual happy-go-lucky restored to shut off the lights and climb into the other side.

“G’night, Daisy.” He curled up facing the wall a respectful distance away from her, and she hunkered down on her own side, barely able to detect the warmth of his body due to the space between them.

“Night.” She clicked her phone off and stuffed it under her pillow, shutting her eyes.

Everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Mingo Motel is real; no, I have never been there, but the amount of research I did on it was...very extra lmao. But hey. It's an important plot point 😏
> 
> Any and all feedback appreciated <3


	4. In Which a Bed is Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREVIOUSLY ON THE ROADTRIP FROM HELL…
> 
> There was a thunderstorm, and a motel with only one bed.
> 
> Everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time, but that's just the way it worked out. Fair warning, there be feels within...

It was not fine.

Daisy awoke slowly to the gray light of early morning peeking through the curtains of the window, warm and sleepy and relaxed. Well, relaxed until she registered the arm wrapped loosely around her middle.

She tensed immediately, stomach muscles tightening and her heart surging in her chest, before the memories of the previous night came back to her and she realized she knew the lump currently cuddled up to her in bed. Shifting slightly, she realized that his head was tucked into the crook of her shoulder, his body curled close such that his knees rested lightly against her right hip.

Had he…?

Her head twisted, looking to her left. Nope, her edge of the bed was out of reach of her fingers as she stretched them out—they had both gravitated toward the middle together.

Fucking hell.

Daisy didn’t cuddle at night. It was one of those things you learned as a foster kid: everyone got their own space, and if you took up too much from one of their real kids, well… Miles hadn’t liked it much either, or only initiated it when he wanted it to lead to something else that she may or may not have been ready for, so Lincoln had been the one to teach her to do it, really, coaxing it out of her in the dark of night until eventually there hadn’t been a place she liked more than being tucked in his arms, one of her legs thrown over his.

The arm across her stomach tightened ever so slightly in his sleep, his thumb grazing the soft skin of her side where her shirt had ridden up.

Daisy took a deep breath, frozen in place.

Deke Shaw was a cuddler.

His hand shifted again, fingers brushing lightly against her side. Tears pricked her eyes, unwanted and unbidden, at the gesture, at the comforting warmth that flowed outward through her body. She hadn’t known until this moment how touch-starved she’d been, after Lincoln and Fitz and Coulson. How much she’d craved it. How much she hadn’t let herself have it, because Lincoln had died for her and Jemma was grieving worse and May was off with Coulson soaking up every last second of the time they had left together.

After everything, how much she just fucking wanted to be _held_.

Her eyes squeezed shut, one hot, traitorous tear slipping toward her hairline. She should push him away. She should push him away because she was _using_ him, because she didn’t _deserve_ this, because she didn’t _want_ to be over Lincoln in the first place because that would mean letting go of that hurt she held close to her heart, the last thing she had of him. All it would take was scooting away, a simple shift of her body. And she would be cold and alone again.

She couldn’t do it.

Another tear leaked out, her whole body trembling, but she couldn’t do it.

Just for a few hours, she promised herself, snuggling down closer to Deke and feeling the heat of his body against hers, the comforting weight of his arm draped across her.

Just another few hours.

* * *

“ _Shit_.” Daisy awoke an unknown amount of time later to Deke retracting his arm and scrambling to his side of the bed. She blinked at him blearily, noting that the faint gray light coming in from the window hadn’t changed much, probably due to the still-pounding rain outside. “Sorry,” Deke told her. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t even know I was—”

“I know,” she said, her body warm and languid and _settled_ in a way that should have scared her as she reached for her phone. “’S fine.”

“Still. Sorry,” he said, abashed.

Daisy yawned. “Apparently you have a tendency to koala bear in your sleep.”

“You could’ve pushed me back onto my own side,” he said. “I know we’re not—I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Eh, it was kinda cute,” Daisy covered. She caught his eye, the slight smile on his face at her words. “In a totally pathetic way, of course.”

Deke threw a pillow at her, making Daisy smirk. “Also, what’s a koala?”

“Marsupial from Australia that hugs trees and sleeps all day and only eats poison. So, actually, really _you_ , minus the sleeping part.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. “Non-quaked Earth has the weirdest animals.”

“I haven’t even told you about the aardvark yet,” Daisy teased. “Now come on, we gotta find out if this hotel has a fitness center before checkout.”

He groaned. “Vacation, my ass.”

“What, worried you can’t keep up?”

“I know I did a lot of running from the Blues, but not whatever—” He punctuated it with a weird hand gesture in her direction. “—ninja craziness May has you do.”

“So that’s a no, then.”

As it turned out, the motel did not have a fitness center, as told to them by the same apologetic receptionist from the night before. “Usually we wouldn’t need one given the number of hiking trails, but, well…” He gestured outside, where the rain was still coming down in heavy sheets.

“Thanks anyway,” Daisy nodded. “We’ll be back in a few to check out, then.”

“Are you headed out of town?’ the receptionist asked. Daisy nodded. “You should know, the road out of Wallowa is closed at the moment. Severe flooding from the storm.”

“Is there another road?”

“Only one. It happens a couple times a year, usually drains a couple hours after the rain stops.”

Daisy looked at Deke. “Guess we’re staying another night.”

He shrugged, a glint in his eye. “I’ll try to koala bear you less this time.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **10:13 AM** | there’s flooding  
---|---|---  
| **10:13 AM** | we got trapped in Oregon  
| **10:14 AM** | which, honestly, could be worse  
| **10:14 AM** | could be florida  
| **10:14 AM** | could be *Texas*  
| **12:29 PM** | they even pumped my gas for me at the gas station  
| **12:29 PM** | weird right  
| **3:52 PM** | and then we tried going on a run outside since this tiny ass motel doesn’t have a gym and just got soaked instead  
| **3:52 PM** | Deke slipped  
| **3:52 PM** | he’s covered in mud now  
| **3:52 PM** | and dripping everywhere  
| **3:53 PM** | and also might have a concussion?? it’s kinda hard to tell bc he’s always like this  
| **3:54 PM** | any chance Dr Simmons could make a virtual house call?  
| **3:54 PM** | _…I’ll call you in a minute. Hold on_  
  
_Read 3:54 PM_

* * *

_Daisy walked toward the little house with slow, unsteady steps, the sunlight bright enough to be piercing to the eyes as it reflected off the white sand, palm trees swaying in the breeze. She paused, then lifted her hand to the wooden door, knocking with two swift raps of her knuckles._

_The door opened. “I told you not to come,” May said, face pale and wan._

_“May…” Daisy said, voice breaking. “May, I had to see him.”_

_The woman stared at her for a few seconds, eyes glazed, a reflection of grief. Then she stepped to the side, allowing Daisy through. The house was as small on the inside as it appeared on the outside, but unmistakably lived in, from the Captain America print on the wall where the fireplace would have been to the bowl of yellow fruits on the dining table next to a half-drunk cup of tea to the squashy couch against the living room wall. “Where is he?” Daisy asked, turning to May._

_“You shouldn’t have to see this,” she said. “He didn’t want you to…remember him like that.”_

_“I have to,” Daisy repeated. “Please, May.”_

_She held Daisy’s gaze, then dipped her head, walking forward on silent feet. She moved through the house like a ghost, stopping at the door to what Daisy assumed was the bedroom. “He’s inside.”_

_The bedroom was similarly decorated, little hints of Coulson and little hints of May and signs of cohabitation everywhere. It smelled like Coulson’s aftershave mixed with jasmine, and Daisy struggled to swallow around the lump in her throat. It smelled like home._

_He lay on the white bedspread, so still and peaceful he could have been sleeping. “C-Coulson?” Daisy asked as she came around the bed. Her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision as she fell to her knees beside the bed. Grasping his hand in her own, Daisy found it stiff and cold. “No,” she murmured. “Coulson, please—” The tears turned to sobs, gulping and broken, echoing in the otherwise silent room. “I’m not ready to lose you. There’s—there’s nothing without you.”_

_His hand suddenly tightened around hers, his eyes flashing open to stare into hers with a cold, burning intensity. “Then why did you let me die?”_

Daisy jolted awake, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. She bolted upright, tears not just from her dream stinging her eyes and already wetting her cheeks.

She hadn’t let him die. It wasn’t true, just because she had the centipede serum running through her veins, that had been his choice, and she hadn’t even known, and she never would have let him—

Then again, it didn’t really matter, did it? Phil Coulson was still dying.

“Daisy…are you…crying?” a voice whispered in the darkness. A fresh wave of tears burned her eyes even as she tried to wipe them away, resulting in nothing more than a sniffle of frustration. “Hey,” Deke said in an entirely different tone, hurriedly sitting up and reaching toward her. “Hey, come here.”

Daisy allowed herself to be pulled into his warmth, his arms closing gently around her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, hand cradling the back of her head as her tears soaked into his shirt. She didn’t answer, just sucked in a shuddering, gulping breath. “Nightmare?” he said softly.

She nodded against him, unable to speak the truth. It was more than a nightmare, it was reality, the reality she was living, or would soon live. Because one morning she wouldn’t get that text from May, and she would get a call instead, and all she could do was wait for the day her world would crash down around her ears.

Daisy gradually became aware that he was rocking her slowly, back and forth, gentle and unsure as if terrified of doing the wrong thing, expecting her to bolt at any moment. Back and forth. Soothing. She’d never been rocked as a child.

“Everyone always leaves,” Daisy managed. Deke’s arms tightened around her. “I can’t—I can’t lose anyone else.”

The rocking continued, soft and steady, the rush of his heartbeat against her ear. “I just want to sleep without dreaming about something horrible happening,” she whispered. He shifted against her, almost as to stand, and her fingers fisted tightly in his shirt, holding him there.

“I’m not leaving,” he assured her. “I’m not leaving, I just…let’s lay down.” He tugged her gently with him, tucking her against his chest once more once they were horizontal on the mattress. His fingers threaded through her hair. “I got you,” Deke murmured even as the sniffles subsided, the steady beat of his heart lulling her back to sleep. “I got you, Daisy.”

And then, so softly that she almost missed it, _“I’m not going anywhere.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback appreciated <3 
> 
> And, uh, no offense to anyone from Florida or Texas :P (well, y'know, not _much_ )


	5. In Which Daisy Ticks Off the NSA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Deke continue on to Portland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To any of my fellow Americans out there, happy ~~Thanksgiving~~ colonialism day! Remember to wear a mask, socially distance, or even just _stay the fuck home_ <3

The next morning dawned much brighter than the previous, golden sunlight streaming in the wide window despite the curtains, the rain having finally stopped late the afternoon before. She rose from the bed without looking at Deke, but felt his concerned gaze on her as she readied for the day and packed up the rest of their stuff that had somehow migrated into all parts of the room in the one extra day they had stayed here. After checking out and piling their stuff back into the van, they had breakfast at a mom-and-pop diner around the corner. Deke took Daisy’s dare about hot sauce a little too readily in what was a bit too-obvious of an attempt to make her smile, dumping at least half the bottle over his omelette and ending up with smoke coming out of his ears.

Daisy stole a bit of it off his plate, dipping her fork in the excess red sauce to taste it. “Never try wasabi,” she advised him.

“What’s wasabi?”

She pursed her lips. “If May ever comes up to you and offers you this green stuff that looks like avocado, run the other way.”

“With May that’s pretty much always my policy,” he replied, and Daisy’s lips twitched upwards again. “I fought her once and won because she had a piece of rebar through her leg and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me.”

“And she never will.”

Then it was leaving Wallowa far behind, Deke playing whatever song struck his fancy through their new 99-cent aux cord, eventually settling on a playlist that sounded like it was all eighties hits. His head bobbed in time to the music as they sped onward toward Portland.

“The World Forestry Center,” he said about an hour out. “ _Located in Portland’s beautiful Washington Park, the 20,000 square foot Discovery Museum is sure to delight visitors from three to 103._ ”

“World _Forestry_ Center?” Daisy repeated, making a face. “We didn’t drive all the way to Portland to look at trees.” She gestured widely with one hand toward the window, keeping the other on the wheel. “We’re literally _surrounded_ by trees.”

“Trees are nice,” he pouted. “Very huggable.” But he scrolled onward. “Okay, what about Japanese Gardens? _Designed in 1963, it encompasses 12 acres with eight separate garden styles, and includes an authentic Japanese Tea House, meandering streams, intimate walkways, and a spectacular view of Mt. Hood._ ”

“ _Intimate walkways_ ,” Daisy repeated with a quirk of her eyebrows, the small smile letting him now that she was teasing him.

He huffed anyway. “Not like that.”

“Japanese Gardens,” she mulled it over. “Sure. Just try not to hug any plants—I don’t think most of them will take your weight, and I am _not_ explaining why you trampled some thousand-year-old flower to the staff.”

“Deal,” Deke grinned. “And Voodoo Donuts after? Fried dough rings with frosting on top?”

“Voodoo Donuts after,” Daisy sighed. “Jemma’s gonna have my ass about all the junk food we’ve been eating.”

“What the Kreepers don’t see won’t hurt us,” he recited. “Not—not that I’m comparing Nana to the Kree, or anything.” His gray eyes turned to her, wide. “Please don’t tell Nana.”

“No promises.”

When they arrived, Daisy paid for their tickets with cash, feeling the stack in her duffel had gotten considerably shorter after having made it all the way to the opposite coast, but there was always her credit card. As it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, the gardens were mostly empty, but all the more beautiful because of it—thick, dark green foliage, tangled vines and delicate blossoms, and the peaceful sound of trickling water running through it all. Outwardly, Deke was more enamored with the plethora of plant life than she was, eagerly examining what seemed like every new species he spotted, but she found herself breathing deeply of the cool, misty air, a sense of calm enjoyment descending over her. Deke squatted down to sniff a pale purple flower just beginning to unfurl its delicate petals near the edge of the path, a look of innocent delight on his face, and Daisy watched him from a few paces away with a strange fondness deep in her chest.

Without a map—because, without May or I-excel-at-preparation-Simmons with them, neither Daisy nor Deke was really the type to remember to grab one on the way in—they wandered through the gardens more than traversed them in a specific pattern, but somehow wound up back at the gift shop near the entrance, fairly sure they had seen everything and some things more than once. Daisy handed him several twenties without him even having to ask, perusing the shelves on her own until he came back cradling a small potted bonsai plant in his hands.

Of course. Trust Deke to buy a portable tree.

He secured it inside the van with an almost comical amount of care, using a strange collection of rubber bands he’d randomly looted from the lower glove compartment, part of an empty Pringles can, and a veritable mound of packing tape—“one thing being in the Lighthouse taught me, never go anywhere without a good roll of tape”—affixing the miniature tree to the dash next to her little hula girl as Daisy looked on in amusement.

“I, uh, got you something too,” Deke said, sliding it out of his pocket. “I saw you looking at it in the shop…” It was a small Asian-style teacup, hand-painted with a bright yellow sun and tiny, fluffy clouds. It matched the one she’d seen May drink her tea out of on occasion in size and style, one her mother had given a young Melinda as a present one year in her Academy days. “Your name used to be Skye, right?”

“Yeah…yeah, it did,” Daisy said, closing her hand around the little teacup, staring down at it. After a moment, her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Thanks, Deke.”

“It’s a pretty name,” he said. “Skye. Well, Daisy too. I mean—both your names are pretty.”

“I chose it when I was a kid,” she replied, giving him a smile before carefully wrapping the cup in one of her sweaters and tucking it away.

“My mom was named after the stars.” He was looking away from her now, determinedly out the front windshield. “At least, that’s what she told me.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “She would have liked you. Especially since you would have proved her right about that whole prophecy thing. But also, you know, in general.” He gave her a quick, strained smile. “Well, I guess you still might meet her, someday.”

 _Someday_.

Daisy started up the van. “So, donuts?”

“Donuts.”

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **7:02 PM** | made it to the west coast  
---|---|---  
| **7:02 PM** | anything u need while we’re here? ;)  
| **7:03 PM** | _[IMG_0934.jpg]_  
| **7:03 PM** | _Preferably the A600 model or later, shipped straight to the Lighthouse. We’ll intercept in route_  
| **7:05 PM** | uhhhhhh  
| **7:05 PM** | idk what that is or where to find one but ok  
| **7:06 PM** | deke and i will figure it out  
| **7:06 PM** | _And when you get to California, Bobbi wants Cactus Cooler_  
| **7:06 PM** | …got it. can you send me her address again?  
| **7:07 PM** | or at least the country. i can retask some nsa satellites and probably narrow it down from there  
| **7:07 PM** | which i’m totally not gonna do. hi nsa  
  
_Read 7:07 PM_

* * *

“Here.” Daisy thrust the card at him. “You go in, get us a room, I’ll try to find somewhere else to park.”

“Okay, sure.” Deke hopped out of the vehicle, heading for the motel lobby, while Daisy circled around the lot again looking for open spots. There were none—what kind of motel didn’t even have enough spots for its guests?—and she resigned herself with having to find van-sized street parking in Portland, pulling onto the main road with her right turn signal flashing. She cruised down the street at a slow pace, mentally calculating if she would fit in any of the spaces she passed without blocking any driveways and keeping one eye on the rearview mirror in case she needed to speed up. Finding nothing, she sighed and rounded the block, knowing the further out she got the farther she’d have to walk to get back to the motel when all she really wanted to do was collapse on a soft bed after a long day of driving, exploring the Japanese Gardens, and sharing a frosting-covered monstrosity with Deke.

_Collapse on a soft bed…_

She hadn’t actually specified to him the _number_ of beds, had she? Daisy frowned, wondering if it was too late to call him, and then wondering if it mattered. Except for being a sleep-cuddler, Deke had been anything but presumptuous on this trip, and he probably would go for separate beds anyway, wanting her to be comfortable.

A pang swept through her, and her eyebrows drew together even further at the unexpected twist in her emotions. She shouldn’t be _sad_ at that? If anything she should be _glad_ , no longer having to share a bed with someone she still didn’t _really_ know, her best friends’ grandson, a man who had, for the first few weeks she’d known him, been aggravating enough to send a spike of dislike shooting through her at every turn. And was enough of a dumbass to spray orange-scented aerosol in his mouth _more than once_!

But somehow, in his arms, she’d felt _safe_. Secure.

Not that she needed protecting—far from it, she could quake his ass to the moon and back if she had to—but that feeling of safety and security was one she’d been chasing her entire life, running and tripping and falling over and over again. It was a feeling she’d only ever gotten from a few people, people she now held close to her heart and patently refused to let go of, knowing how precious, how _rare_ , they were. Coulson, May, Jemma, Lincoln… and now Deke.

Now that she had seen it, she couldn’t _unsee_ it. Him. The way her eyes caught on the flex of his muscles after she’d dragged him down to the fitness center of whatever hotel they were staying at, the softness in his eyes as he gazed at her in the car when he thought she wasn’t looking, the tender way with which he held her at night in his sleep.

Yeah, Daisy wasn’t blind; she knew how _he_ felt. His crush was pretty much the worst-kept secret on the team.

She just wasn’t sure how she did.

Her heart clenched.

Or maybe, she just wasn’t sure she was _ready_ for how she did.

Spotting a free space that looked to be wide enough, Daisy pulled into it, turning off the van. Grabbing both her bag and Deke’s—no need for him to come all the way back here—she headed for the motel after reading a quick text with the room number. A man leered at her from the bus stop as she passed by, but she sent a quick quake his way that smacked him backwards into the metal sign containing the route information.

Arriving at the motel, Daisy located their room and knocked. Deke opened the door for her immediately, and she tossed him his bag, eyes sweeping the room and the two identical queen beds covered in cream-colored duvets. “Thanks,” he said. “You can have first dibs on the bathroom.”

Despite her exhaustion, Daisy lay awake for a long while after the lights had been turned out, staring up at the ceiling. She could hear Deke’s calm, steady breathing from a bed over, but she was just unable to shut her eyes. Too many thoughts swirled around her brain, only compounding upon the emotional turmoil she could feel in her chest. How could she want him so close to her, his arms wrapped around her waist, and yet also want him so far away she’d never be able to look at him that way again at the same time?

Rolling onto her side, Daisy almost reached for her phone but paused at the last second. Who would she even text? Jemma, who was mourning the love of her life while at the same time working night and day to find him? Coulson, possibly lying on his deathbed? May, who was with him? Daisy pulled her hand back, tucking it close to her body. She was unable or unwilling to bother them with this, not with so much else at stake.

Besides, it wasn’t like she couldn’t already imagine what they’d say if she called, asking about Deke or crying about Lincoln or maybe both at the same time.

Jemma, pale and rigid like she’d been that day at the wake—no, _retirement party_. “We don’t move on. We hold that place in our heart. We close it off and we lock the door and we…visit from time to time, but we don’t move on. Even after we say goodbye.”

May, her soft voice brushing over some of the bruises on Daisy’s soul. “Visiting from time to time isn’t the same as _dwelling_ , Daisy. Lincoln wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of your life mourning his memory. He sacrificed himself so you could _live_. Have a life, after him. That’s what he would want for you.”

And Coulson, his eyes still full of life, a comforting hand resting on her shoulder. “Finding something new isn’t a replacement for what you’ve lost. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Daisy swallowed.

_Finding something new isn’t replacing what you’ve lost._

Deke’s not Lincoln.

He’s Deke.

And he cared about her. And, if she was honest with herself, she cared about him too.

Twisting her head, she looked across the gap between the beds in the pale green glow of the clock on the table between them. She shifted, legs poking out from underneath the covers, then sat up fully before she could second-guess herself. The carpet was rough against her bare feet as she padded across the small aisle, lifting the covers slightly and crawling in with him with a quiet rustle of sheets. She scooted closer to him, and he shifted suddenly in his sleep, reaching for her.

His hands pulled her in close, and Daisy settled against his chest, feeling that _thing_ rising within her again, the sensation of safety and comfort and closeness that had once burned her skin with how much she yearned for it, making her limbs tremble. Now she slid into it like a warm embrace, relaxing her muscles and finally allowing herself just to _be_ , and maybe even to _want_ , the soft cotton of his t-shirt against her cheek and the thump-thump of his heart steady in her ear.

In a nondescript motel in southern Portland, Oregon, Daisy Johnson drifted off to sleep for the first time in months with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....I should just end the fic right there, right? Happiness? From _me_? 
> 
> Mwahahahahahahahahahahaha. I mean, you totally have nothing to worry about. Totally. 
> 
> Regular Wednesday updating schedule resumes next Wednesday before it gets _real_ crazy halfway through December to finish on NYE. Any and all feedback appreciated <3


	6. In Which an Agreement is Reached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Developments occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know my summaries are UTTERLY cryptic. Oh well :P
> 
> Special thanks/hiss to Serena for her insight this morning; ily even if this means I haven't eaten breakfast yet. (Everyone else, when extra angst happens, blame her not me! K cool.)

She lay listening to the droning hum of the air conditioner when she felt Deke shift next to her. Her eyes snapped back into focus from where they had been staring sightlessly somewhere in the vicinity of his elbow for the last hour or so. Her breath caught in her chest as he stirred again, a jumble of slow-moving yet uncoordinated limbs. “Daisy?” A hint of alarm overtook the sleepiness in Deke’s voice as he looked at her blearily, trying to comprehend her presence. That was fair, Daisy had barely comprehended it herself; yet even in the light of morning after an hour of searching within herself she remained tentatively, thankfully, gloriously resolute in what she wanted to do. “Did you have another nightmare?” He touched her shoulder gently. “You should’ve woken me.”

She shook her head, her heartbeat quickening. “I didn’t have a nightmare.”

“Oh.” He looked down, as if checking she was really in his bed, and a perfectly empty one across the way. “Then why…?”

“I’m…really glad you’re here,” Daisy told him truthfully, holding his gaze.

His brow furrowed in confusion. “Well…well, yeah, you should have someone with you…”

Daisy pushed herself up on one elbow and crossed the last few inches between them, pressing her lips against his. Surprise stilled him for the first few seconds, but then he was kissing her back, his hand coming up to cup the side of her jaw. Warm, fluttery tingles ran through her down to the tips of her toes, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

She pulled away and met his eyes again, needing him to understand. “No,” she whispered. “I’m really glad _you’re_ here.”

“Oh,” Deke breathed, his lips parted slightly with an expression of dawning wonder. “ _Oh_.”

Daisy smiled, then leaned close again, close enough to see every one of his light brown lashes and every fleck of blue from his maternal grandfather in the gray of his eyes. “Okay?”

“More than okay.” She kissed him again, hands pressed against his chest where she could feel the rapid _thumpthump, thumpthump_ , of his heart through the thin cotton of his sleep shirt, then moved to thread through his hair. His own dropped to the curve of her waist, thumb slipping just below the hem of her shirt to skim the soft skin of her side.

She wiggled, then mumbled, “Ticklish,” against his lips. He pulled back and raised a playful eyebrow, swiping his thumb across her side again and making her squirm.

“Deke!” She caught her breath, then gave him a mock glare. “I can quake you.”

“Honestly I expected to be quaked long before now on this trip…”

Daisy rolled her eyes, making the bed shake slightly with her powers before just reaching down to move his hand to a safer location, like her hip. He captured her lips again, keeping the kisses soft and chaste, and Daisy felt an almost unfamiliar buoyancy filling her from the inside out as they lay there in the soft morning sunlight. 

The buzz of a text from May roused them eventually, Daisy reaching for the nightstand between the two beds to fumble for her phone. After that she offered him her hand to drag him upright out of bed as well, and they padded around the motel room gathering their belongings with the slight awkwardness of two people who recognized that something had changed between them but were unsure how the rest of their actions were supposed to reflect that. Deke eagerly held the door open for her when it was time to leave, and Daisy smiled to herself as she crossed the threshold before heading down to the lobby to check out.

The dazed-slash-delighted look on his face persisted through the next section of their road trip down US-101 along the Oregon coast toward the California border—taken because Deke had never seen the ocean, and Daisy knew as a former LA resident that I-5 would eventually be entirely made up of dry grassland and cows, even if it was faster—though it did not stop him from somehow getting his arm stuck in a can of Pringles as he tried to fish out the last few chips from the bottom, resulting in Daisy having to quake him free and then buy a shop vac at their next stop. What once she would have found annoying if not downright aggravating at the beginning of the trip now seemed to make her laugh instead, and what was once an inconvenience was now an adventure to be shared.

They passed through the border in early afternoon, the coast in full view on the opposite side of the road as the _Welcome to California_ sign decorated with golden poppies, the sunlight glittering off the waves in the distance. Daisy saw a sign for the Redwoods State Park and pulled off the highway without Deke even having to ask, and they spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through spacious forest, the smell of mist and moss and earth lingering in the shadowed air. They ate dinner late that night at a 24-hour diner in Eureka, feet occasionally bumping into one another beneath the table more times than could truly be accidental, and Daisy didn’t even blink as she asked for a room with a single bed at the next motel.

“We should try camping,” Deke said as they got ready for the night. “That’s a thing people do, right? Pitch a tent to keep out the bugs and just sleep outdoors.”

“I’m getting a mental image of you and a campfire accidentally burning the whole forest down…” Daisy teased. She sent a quick text off on her phone before setting it facedown on the nightstand and climbing into bed beside him.

 **To:** Jemma Simmons

| **1:24 AM** | so there’s been some…developments  
---|---|---  
  
“Next time,” Daisy said thoughtfully, returning to the camping idea as she wrapped an arm comfortably around his middle and threw one leg over his. “I’m sure _someone_ has equipment we can borrow. Although I might be equally useless as you; we might have to bring Simmons along.”

“Nana? Good at camping?”

“Her parents took her a lot. How else does one catalogue every species of insect in the Cairngorms?” she replied.

“Makes sense.”His thumb brushed lightly against the skin of her arm in the darkness, tracing back and forth, lighting up her skin where he touched it and sending that same utter _warmth_ through her again. “Night, Daisy.”

“Night, Deke.”

* * *

“I’m really glad we did this.”

Daisy hummed a questioning tone, shifting sleepily from where she was warm and content in bed and tilting her head upward to look at him from where it had been tucked against his shoulder.

“Not just… _this_ , this—” He gestured between the two of them. “But just. This trip, in general. When I left S.H.I.E.L.D. the first time, before your battle with Talbot, I said I wanted to see the world…but really, I was just kind of lost. Wandering around. Following weird tips off the internet and getting myself into trouble. But with you…”

“I keep you out of trouble?” she asked, blinking innocently at him. He was cute like this, rumpled morning hair and eyes bright blue in the sunlight streaming in from the window, his ears stained with the lightest of pink from her teasing. “It’s true; neither of us has gotten arrested yet…”

“That was _one_ time.” He made a small scoffing noise in the back of his throat, fingers reach down to tickle her side in protest, making her squirm. “I mean, I’ve gotten to see a lot of things with you that I’d never thought I’d see.”

“It’s just a tiny part of it,” Daisy told him once she’d fended him off. “If you still want to visit the Great Wall someday…I’d be down.”

Deke nodded, smiling. After a moment, he let out a sigh. “Earth is really beautiful, Daisy.”

She thought about all the times it had nearly been destroyed, and the time it _had_ been destroyed that they’d narrowly managed to circumvent after god-knows-how-many time loops. “It is.”

“And to think, six weeks ago, this all was just blasted apart and you were clueless and running around level three trying not to get eaten by roaches.”

She raised an eyebrow, lips quirking upward. “And to think two and a half weeks ago, you were just a weirdo sneaking lemons into my bunk.” He shifted until he could kiss her, nipping playfully at her bottom lip.

“So the lemons worked then.”

Daisy rolled her eyes, thumping her hand against his chest. “Let’s get this straight; the lemons did _not_ work. If you go around telling people we got together because of _lemons_ —”

“Wait, so we are—we’re—together?” Deke asked, a new note of uncertainty present in his voice.

She blinked at him, then sensing a shift in the tone of the conversation propped her head up on one arm, curling her legs somewhat beneath her until their bodies weren’t touching anymore. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

Deke bobbed his head. “Of course. I’ve l—I’ve really liked you for a while now, I just…didn’t think you were ready.”

“I didn’t think I was either.” She gave him a small smile, relaxing slightly. “You caught me by surprise.”

His thumb traced her jaw, almost reverent. “Are…are you sure?” The uncertainty in his gray eyes was palpable, a tiny flame of hope ready to be crushed. “Because—because I like you a lot, and I’m willing to wait if you’re not ready. I don’t want to be—I don’t want this to be—”

“A rebound?” Daisy guessed.

He looked at her, poorly-concealed pain in his eyes. Or, maybe he wasn’t trying to conceal it at all. “You know what I mean.”

She bit her lip, trying to decide how best to say this. “If I wanted a rebound, I would have done it back with Robbie.”

That…was not it.

“Who’s Robbie?”

“This guy. Part hell demon. Not important,” she shook her head. “I don’t want a rebound. I want to try something real. I can’t promise there won’t be rough patches, or times when I…freak out, or need to take a step back, because losing Lincoln…I mean, I think it’ll probably always be a big part of me, and who I am, but…” Her voice wobbled. “But if you’re okay with me not being a-a hundred percent—”

“Yes,” Deke told her softly. “I’m okay with that, Daisy. I know—I would never ask you to forget Lincoln, ever. And…we can figure it out together what that looks like, okay? I mean, you’re already putting up with so much with me—I’ve never done this before really either, and then there’s the whole ‘new time’ thing—“

“Deke,” she stopped him. “You know that I don’t just want to try this with anyone, right? That I’m not just…putting up with you, or… I want this _with_ you.” Daisy pursed her lips. “I want _you_.”

He didn’t answer, uncertainty in his eyes, his insecurities laid bare for her to see, and she took a deep breath.

“Deke…you’re _here_. And not in a convenience sort of way for me, because it _wasn’t_ convenient, at all, and I was definitely not the nicest to you over these last few weeks, and you’re here anyway. You talk a lot but you have this…this way of listening that makes people feel heard, feel like you care. You’re FitzSimmons-level smart.” She swallowed. “You have this optimism, that…despite all the shit we went through, you make all of the horrible things seem less _horrible_ , when you’re around.” She paused, striving for some levity, striving to quell the bitter pang of betrayal that listing all that drew from deep within her. _You said you can't live with what you've done, but you have to, okay?_ So _live_.

She cocked her head. “And you don’t look half-bad without a shirt on.”

“I can take it off if you want,” Deke told her, eyes brighter now, a slow smile spreading over his face.

Daisy rolled her eyes, lips curving upwards. “Maybe later.” She took his hand in hers, twining their fingers together. “But that’s what I mean. You can make me smile, even when I’m down. And even when I’m in too deep for it to really work…you always try anyway.”

“I just…want you to be happy,” he said shyly. “Or at least…not alone.”

“Not alone,” Daisy repeated, the words feeling foreign on her tongue. She squeezed his hand. “I’m not used to people sticking around. Or them…caring. Coulson and May and Jemma and Mack…they already feel like a miracle. One I don’t deserve.”

His eyes were soft, open, reflecting the lamplight. “…Me either. Not—not since my mom died.”

“Aren’t we a pair?” she snorted, burying her head in the pillow.

“Daisy?” he asked a few seconds later, and she shifted, twisting her head to look at him, the side still resting on the pillow.

“Yeah?”

“You do deserve it.” She opened her mouth to cut him off. “No, I’m serious. You do. More than anyone—more than anyone I’ve ever met.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “The Lighthouse, it…it messes you up. And I didn’t realize how much until I came here, to this time, and met the team, met _you_. Because yeah the Kreepers made our lives an apocalyptic hellscape but the universe has dealt you just as shit a hand with what you’ve been through in your life, and you…you didn’t turn out like us, fighting for scraps and survival and turning in our friends for a leg up. You protect people, and you were willing to sacrifice everything for a bunch of strangers you’d never even met, and you just…you just care about people so deeply.”

“A few bad foster homes isn’t quite _apocalyptic hellscape ruled by genocidal aliens_ —”

“I know what can happen to a kid when there are no adults left to care about their well-being,” Deke said quietly, silencing her protest.

“Yeah, I guess you do,” Daisy said after a moment, avoiding his gaze.

He drew her back to him with his fingertip tapping lightly against her heart. “My point is, you deserve it. People caring. Love. You deserve the world.”

Daisy just shook her head, unable to put words to the swirling emotions within her, the part of her that still screamed that _she doesn’t deserve this_ , _he’ll die like all the others_ , _she’ll only get him killed_. Because that’s what she does. Who she is. _Wherever she goes, death follows_. She’s _the Destroyer of Worlds_.

“Deke…”

He immediately clocked into the change in her expression, his forehead creasing with worry. “What is it? What did I…”

“It’s not…” She pushed herself up into a sitting position, the blankets rumpled around her. She crossed her arms in front of herself protectively. “You remember what I said, back in the Lighthouse? About…about Lincoln?”

Deke’s voice was tight; he pushed himself up too, mirroring her position. “Yeah?”

She met his eyes, then repeated it, the words, the simple truth that still haunted her every step. “Everyone who gets close to me ends up dying.”

“Daisy…”

“No, I know,” she said, forestalling him with a hard swallow around the ever-expanding lump in her throat. She blinked rapidly. “I know it’s irrational, and it’s my insecurities, and it’s stupid, but…it’s a pattern I can’t ignore.” Her fingernails bit into her palms. “I need you to promise me you’re not going to leave.”

He looked at her questioningly, a response on the tip of his tongue, but she barreled right past him. “Not like…if we break up or something, that’s fine, that’s normal. But you can’t…sacrifice yourself for me.” She took a deep breath. “You can’t die for me.”

“I…wasn’t…planning to?”

“Deke, I’m serious. You already took a bullet for me once—”

“Well, that wasn’t _for you_ , really, you just happened to be in the vicinity—”

“—and I just.” Daisy let out a frustrated breath. “I need you to promise. No world-saving heroics. No sacrifice plays when someone else could—when _I_ could…”

“I thought that’s what S.H.I.E.L.D. was all about,” Deke bit out. “Protecting the person next to you. Being the hero.” He met her eyes, hurt. “You can’t just ask me not to try to save you.”

“At the cost of your life? Yes, I can. I _am_.”

It was antithetical, she knew. Antithetical to what it meant to be an agent, to be part of the team as she knew it. FitzSimmons, May and Coulson…they would do anything for each other. Jump through a hole in the universe, smash a vial of odium that might have been their last chance for an uncracked Earth. That was just how their relationships worked. The lost, unloved little girl in the orphanage might have romanticized the idea of loving someone so much that you would die for them, but Daisy had lived through the horror of that once already, if drowning in a sea of booze, self-hate, and Watchdogs’ blood cut off from anyone she cared about even counted as living at all. She was already surrounded by too many people who loved her enough to die for her, to sacrifice their life for hers, regardless of whether she wanted them to or not. And she loved them for that, she did, but…

For this to work, she needed someone who might someday love her enough to live for her, instead.

Her fingers kneaded the blankets, her head down, allowing some of her dark hair to obscure her face. Daisy began haltingly. “Losing Lincoln…it broke me. It broke me for a really long time, and I can’t—I can’t put myself in a position to do that again.” Her eyes flashed up to meet his. “I know I’m asking a lot—I was _already_ asking a lot, and now this, and—and I know it isn’t fair, because I’m asking you to go through the same thing I did. And I understand if—”

“Okay.”

Daisy stopped. “Okay?”

Deke nodded, a little jerkily. “It’s your life. I mean, I’m not happy about it, but it’s your life and your autonomy and I’m not going to make a choice that you have to live with after. My mom used to talk about this thing called survivor’s guilt—with the terrigenesis and the Renewals and the roaches, a lot of people had it in the Lighthouse. And you’ve already been through so much…so if this is what you need from me to feel safe…”

To feel safe.

To feel safe to care about someone unreservedly again, maybe even someday to love again.

To not be responsible for another death.

“Thank you.” She grabbed for his hand, holding it tightly. “Deke, really. Thank you.” Daisy pulled him closer, capturing his mouth with hers for a few brief moments before simply resting their foreheads together.

“I know what it’s like to be left over and over again, and to have your trust destroyed by the people who said they would stay,” he told her quietly, and she recognized the truth and the kindred spirit in his words. That, more than anything, made it feel like a promise. “But that’s not to say I won’t try to help. If it doesn’t risk my life.”

“Of course not,” she said with a slight smile, still flooded with relief. She drew away, tilting her head slightly. “Does that mean you’re staying with S.H.I.E.L.D. once we get back?”

“If you want me to.” He shrugged. “Or I guess if Mack lets me, since he’s Director.”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.’ll be lucky to have you,” Daisy told him. “Mack knows that.” Turning to the side, she pulled her phone toward her off the nightstand, unplugging the charger. “Oh god, it’s eleven fifteen already. Well, I guess we’re not making it to San Francisco today.”

Deke made a face. “San Francisco can wait.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Daisy gave him a scrutinizing look. “You know nothing about San Francisco do you?”

“Not a thing,” Deke said.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Go shower,” she waved him off. “I have an idea.”

“Ooh, tell me.”

“After.” She made the shooing motion again.

“Fine,” Deke huffed, jumping off the bed and leaving it bouncing slightly behind him. Wondering just how one went about booking an AirBnb, Daisy looked down at her phone again, spying the one unread text message besides May’s usual check-in.

 **To:** Jemma Simmons

| **1:24 AM** | so there’s been some…developments  
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| **6:01 AM** | _Oh?_  
  
_Read 11:16 AM_

Daisy smiled, thumbs caressing the smooth edges of the glass over the keyboard as she thought about what to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do all the important conversations happen in bed, you ask? Hell if I know, but there's also just something intimate about them—especially when the lights are off, though that wasn't the case in this chapter—that makes it just a little easier to open up and say what you want to say. 
> 
> Any and all feedback appreciated, yes more angst is coming because _yes of course it is how could i let them be happy_ , don't @ me <3


	7. In Which Lemons Abound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. The only fluff you're gonna get, so you better take it and run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the summary says it all, honestly. I'm a little nervous for this one, so be gentle, pls <3

Daisy sat at the small wooden table off the kitchen, wondering for the fifth time that hour exactly how smart of an idea it had been to let Deke take the van and go alone to the store. His driving had gotten much better over the last week—which wasn’t hard, starting from zero—but if he crashed the van, or got lost, or knocked over a bunch of grocery store shelves… Daisy smirked to herself. _Or ended up in jail._

She wondered if the social worker cover would work again, and if California’s police database would be any harder to hack than New York’s. Had she even brought a pantsuit with her on this trip? Maybe, but if she had it was in the van, which was entirely unhelpful. She would just have to—

 _Tap tap taptaptap_. Her head turned automatically toward the door, for some reason the police coming first to mind—perhaps being back in California for the first time since her days as the hunted vigilante Quake was doing things to her brain. But no, no one except Deke Shaw could knock as weirdly as that.

She stood up and crossed the room, pulling the door open to reveal Deke on the other side, brown paper bags of groceries balanced in both arms and another bag on the doorstep beside him. “Thanks,” he said brightly, stepping past her across the threshold. Daisy grabbed the other bag before following him inside, setting it next to the other one he had stacked on the table.

“How much did you buy?” she demanded.

He stood up from where he was stuffing the final bag in the fridge and rummaged in his pocket for her credit card, handing it back to her with a crumpled receipt. “Plastic cards are so much superior to devices drilled into your wrist, you know?”

“This is all for a _recipe_ , right…?” Daisy asked dubiously, poking through the bags.

“Three recipes, actually.”

“Three,” she repeated, then nodded with a small shrug of her shoulders. “Go big or go home, I guess. I don’t suppose you know how to cook? That something the Kree taught in the Lighthouse?”

“I know the exact ratio and timing to rehydrate a dried mushroom pellet for maximum nutrient absorbance in the small intestine, and so you won’t crack a tooth on it,” he offered with a quick smile. “You know, don’t you?”

“Not…a ton,” Daisy said. “I did live in my van for a few years, and then once we were on base Coulson did a lot of the cooking, or Mack, or Bobbi and Hunter… May taught me a couple of Chinese dishes.” Her lips curved upward and she looked down at the bags of groceries again, beginning to unload their contents onto the kitchen table. “It’ll be an adventure.”

“I sent you the recipes,” Deke told her, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and helping her unload the rest of the items until the table was covered in a twin pack of meat, a bag of rice, a bunch of asparagus, garlic, onion, cheese, butter, olive oil, spices, a small bottle of cheap white wine, boxed chicken stock, and— _he didn’t_. Two round, yellow lemons.

Daisy stared down at the links he had sent her. “Please tell me you didn’t choose this recipe just for the lemons.”

“Well, not _just_ …” She rolled her eyes fondly at his sheepish expression, catching him by the belt loops for a quick kiss.

As it turned out, none of the recipes Deke had chosen were particularly hard to follow, and the two of them quickly prioritized the tasks based on cooking times. Daisy rubbed spices into the two steaks and left them to sit while Deke went to work attacking the onion.

He hacked at it with the knife, sending a few rings spilling across the chopping board. “Why am I—” He sniffled, stabbing at it again. “— _crying_?”

“Raw onion, it does that,” Daisy said sympathetically from the sink, where she was washing blood from the meat off her hands. “We can switch if you want.”

“No, it’s—” Another sniffle, and dabbing his eyes on his shirt sleeve. “—it’s okay, I got it.”

She dried her hands on the towel, then came to hug him from behind, wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her chin on his shoulder in a way that would have felt weird a few days ago but now just felt so right. She thought back to one of the texts Simmons had sent this morning, upon hearing about her and Deke.

 **To:** Jemma Simmons

| **11:30 AM** | _I’m not surprised, actually. Prolonged skin-to-skin contact, particularly in a sleep setting_  
---|---|---  
| **11:30 AM** | _It’s an evolutionary form of bonding_  
| **11:31 AM** | _and he is sweet_  
  
Trust Simmons to science it up, but Daisy wasn’t sure it was entirely that. This goofball of a man reminded her of _her_ sometimes, of her back when she was Skye—innocent and optimistic and _playful_ in a way Daisy hadn’t felt in years, despite both Deke and Skye having had a pretty shitty life up to that point. She liked who she was, Daisy Johnson, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and occasionally Quake, but there were lighter parts of being Skye that she missed too, parts that he somehow brought out in her again, coaxing them out from under layers of guilt and trauma with his ridiculousness and antics.

“You sure?” Daisy asked, tightening her arms slightly.

Deke nodded. “I can handle—” Stab. “—an _onion_.”

“Okay,” she laughed, releasing him. Once the onion had been chopped into tiny pieces, it was added to the pan with some olive oil to sauté, Deke stirring the mixture as Daisy zested one of the lemons. The zest, rice, wine, and chicken stock got added next before they moved on to chopping the asparagus and the other lemon into sections, rushing back to the stove every so often as they remembered to stir the risotto right before it boiled over. With three different parts of the meal to attend to, the slightly cramped kitchen of the AirBnb resulted in them running into each other more than once, shy smiles and bumbling gestures—well, on Deke’s part only, Daisy was nothing if not completely and unimpeachably _smooth_ at all times, the splash of lemon juice on his shirt notwithstanding—that only seemed to make Deke a little more jumpy as time went on.

“I just—want everything to be perfect,” he told her when she questioned him, the tips of his ears turning adorably pink.

“I guess this is as close to date night as two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents ever really get,” Daisy said with a smile, sneaking a swig of the white wine. At the words _date night_ , Deke’s ears got even redder.

“I don’t—I mean I didn’t—only if you—asparagus look like miniature trees,” he finished lamely.

When everything was ready, they served it onto two plates and carried them to the table, Deke nearly dropping his in his haste to pull out her chair for her. Daisy eyed him oddly, somewhere between amused and touched at this idiot she’d somehow ended on the other side of the country with.

“Don’t be weird,” she told him. “You’re gonna make this weird, aren’t you?”

“What—being chivalrous is weird now?” Deke protested.

“No, it’s… Sorry, it’s just…been a long time.” She cleared her throat. “Since anyone did that for me. And…” Daisy couldn’t help laughing at the expression on his face. “…you look like a nervous squirrel.”

“I do _not_ ,” he balked immediately, stabbing at his steak with his fork and knife.

Daisy lifted a bite of risotto to her mouth. “…Do you even know what a squirrel looks like?”

“No,” Deke mumbled. “Wait, _yes_ , they were in my nature book.”

But she had already found a picture of a startled-looking brown squirrel holding an acorn on her phone and was sliding it across to him. “Like this one.”

“Hey,” Deke whined. “That’s even _worse_.”

“Don’t worry,” Daisy’s eyes danced at him. “Squirrels are cute. And they hoard nuts! It’s actually a pretty good analogy.”

Deke poked at his food again, though Daisy could see the tiny hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m getting better,” he grumbled.

“Yes, that’s why the back of my van is filled with the selected earthquake supplies of a fifth grader.”

“That was a lot of words we didn’t have in the future, but offense taken anyway, _Daisy_.”

“‘Kay, good.” She held his gaze until both of them couldn’t anymore, looking down and snorting into their food.

Conversation flowed easily with Deke, even after spending the last two weeks with no one to talk to but each other. Because Deke was just generally talkative as a person, yes, but also because it turned out they had more shared experiences than two people born seventy-three years apart into entirely different worlds had any right to. Even if the substance of what they had lived through wasn’t the same—alien overlords and overbearing nuns, lost parents and parents that were _lost_ —the feeling of it remained, a bond stretching thin and tenuous between them and getting stronger.

Lincoln had understood the emptiness inside her that refused to be filled, that sent her chasing after her parents, crashing headlong into walls, over and over again; Deke understood the loneliness that dogged at her every step of the way, of the orphanage and the foster homes and the Rising Tide and Miles and S.H.I.E.L.D. and every other place she’d ever tried to fit in, to belong, to wonder if she was good enough, if it was all an act that would come crashing down around her ears when it turned out she wasn’t. And he understood—or he would understand, she knew, if she managed to someday open up and let him into the darkest places deep inside her—the insidious voice in her head that told her nothing could ever really be unconditional. The bruised Mary Sue Poots and the hurt, standoffish Skye No-Family-No-Family-Name-to-Inherit and the broken Daisy Johnson standing in the wreckage of her own destruction all telling her that nothing could be trusted, nothing was forever, that everything can and would be taken away.

It didn’t feel right to compare them, Lincoln and Deke, but it didn’t feel right not to, either. Lincoln would always be a part of her, his life and death coloring her past and her present, informing her hopes and dreams and who she was at her very core. But she could _move on_. She could try.

“Oh!” Deke said, bolting upright near the end of the meal. “I forgot—I also bought drinks.”

“So that’s what the third bag was,” Daisy mused, watching as he made for the fridge, from which he pulled out a now-chilled six-pack of Zima from behind the Cactus Cooler they would be sending off to Bobbi. She quickly ducked her head, smiling into her food at the memory of the team’s faces when they realized that the malted beverage was the only alcohol Deke stocked for Jemma and F—for the wedding. “Trying to get me drunk, Deke?”

“Wha—no!” he spluttered, turning around with a look of indignation. “I wouldn’t—” He took in the shit-eating grin on her face and scowled at her. “You know, if either of us manages to get drunk tonight, it’s gonna be me, with my tolerance.”

“True. I have a well-trained liver,” Daisy said, declining to mention the more-depressing reasons for that. Where a normal person might have frat parties and college bar crawls, she had a shitty childhood and the ability to print fake IDs in the back of her van, and of course, Lincoln. Then again, neither she nor Deke were all that normal.

“Good, ‘cause I got you these,” Deke said, holding up another six-pack, this time a brown-colored box with _Bendeery English Ale_ stamped on the side. “That’s the one you all like to drink, right?”

“Yeah…” Her brow furrowed slightly, surprised and a little touched by the gesture, his thoughtfulness. “But I’ll drink Zima with you for tonight, it’s okay.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes lighting up even further. “Everyone else seems to…hate it.”

“It’s…got a rep,” Daisy laughed, trying to explain. “They’re just being snooty. Scotch is all manly and shit, and trust me, beer is an acquired taste, and Zima is just associated with teenagers who can’t handle ‘the real stuff’ yet.”

“Oh,” Deke said, his face falling. His hurt, kicked-puppy expression had Daisy getting up from the table, rounding the kitchen island to take one of the Zimas from the box. It clinked against the countertop as she tapped it lightly, then twisted the top off.

“No, Deke…it’s a stupid toxic masculinity thing, okay? No one in their right mind actually thinks beer tastes better than alcohol-infused lemon-lime soda straight-off.” She held the drink out to him, then opened another for herself. “We can try the Bendeery’s together later, if you want. Beer goes down much better when you’re already a little wasted.”

His eyebrows rose. “How drunk were we planning on getting tonight?”

“You’re the one who bought us a six-pack _each_ ,” Daisy pointed out with a grin.

“Yeah, because they don’t sell them in anything smaller—”

“Plus I _might’ve_ already finished the leftover wine, so…” She tilted her head at him mischievously, clinking their bottles together. “You gotta catch up.”

“Daisy!”

“It wasn’t that much,” she protested, taking a swig of the Zima. The taste of malted Sprite burst over her tongue with the slight burn of carbonation as she evaluated her mental state, the slight fluidity of her thoughts. “Okay, it was a decent amount. But still.”

They finished up the rest of the dinner in a few short bites, Zima in hand, before Deke started on the dishes and Daisy on packing away the leftovers and general kitchen cleanup. “So what do you want to do tonight?” he asked as he dried his hands on the towel, everything drying in the dish drainer. “What do people do in this time period do with their…” He trailed off as he searched for the word. “Date?”

“Well, a lot of people do this thing called Netflix and chill,” Daisy suggested lightly.

“I know Netflix,” Deke said. He tilted his head. “And chill?”

“Put on something we can both ignore and make out on the couch,” she clarified.

She caught the eager look on his face before he schooled his expression. “I mean, if you want…”

Daisy socked him in the arm, then let him chase her to the living room where they located then wrestled over the TV remote. He won, somehow, and Daisy relegated herself to poking him in the side every time he hovered over something she didn’t want to watch. Eventually they settled on _Our Planet_ , because of course a FitzSimmons grandson would default to what was basically the Nature channel. Daisy fetched them both a fresh Zima though her head was already buzzing pleasantly, worries about the future or imminent deaths or world-ending events relegated to the background even as everything else became more present—the jarring cold of the glass, the cool smoothness of the leather couch against her bare feet as she tucked them up next to her. And Deke—the warmth radiating from his body as she leaned into him, the softness of his t-shirt, the small thrill that went up her spine as he put an arm around her shoulders, one hand resting comfortably on her thigh just above her knee.

_“Just fifty years ago, we finally ventured to the moon…For the very first time, we looked back at our own planet…”_

“Wow, you guys are behind,” Deke commented.

“Shut up, space boy.”

_“The polar regions of our planet may seem beyond the reach of most of us…”_

His lips tasted of lemons and malt and something inexplicably Deke when she brought his head down to kiss him, the TV flashing white with images of snow and frosty tundra in the dim room. The hand on her thigh tightened briefly as she ran her tongue across his bottom lip, seeking entrance, humming into his mouth when he opened for her. He suppressed a moan as her hands threaded their way through his hair, and she shifted a little more into his lap before he broke away, eyes fixated on the screen. “What are _those_?”

She chuckled as she glanced at it, content to pause to catch their breath and maybe make further progress on her Zima. “Penguins,” she told him as she brought the bottle to her lips, the warmth of the alcohol sliding down her throat barely even noticeable anymore under the general, contented haze that had settled over everything. “Little arctic birds. They swim.”

This time he was the one to initiate the kiss, every bit as intoxicating as the last. “Any chance we could see some?” he asked, breathing heavily against her lips a few minutes later, their foreheads a few scant millimeters from brushing. “How far away’s Antarctica?”

“Far,” Daisy huffed a laugh. “But I’ll take you to a zoo tomorrow.”

They stayed like that for a while, intertwined on the couch, their bodies slipping lower and lower as the night wore on until they were basically horizontal, him near the edge of the cushions with his head propped up against the edge and her lying half on top of him. The empty paper holder for the Zima bottles was abandoned on the coffee table, Deke a little glassy-eyed and Daisy with a comfortable buzz. It was quiet, intimate in the room, the only other presence the soothing, accented narration of David Attenborough. Even toward the end of the fifty-minute episode, Deke was still getting adorably distracted by the show—“But Daisy! Look at the poor polar bear, the ice caps are _melting_ ”—until she finally straddled his hips fully, forcing his eyes to snap to hers. They fell briefly to her lips before darting back upward.

“Do I have your attention now?” Daisy teased, rocking against him a little and grinning down at him in the low light.

“God, yes, Daisy,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“‘Cause if you need a few more minutes with the polar bears—”

“No,” he said immediately, pulling her own to his level. “No. I’m all yours.”

“Good,” she whispered before kissing him again.

* * *

**To:** Jemma Simmons

| **11:36 PM** | got any good zoo recommendations in the bay area? asking for a friend  
---|---|---  
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to angst-town for next chapter, ~~don't~~ do worry!
> 
> Any and all thoughts appreciated! Next update Monday, Dec. 14 <3


	8. In Which Monkeys Cause Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet some penguins, Deke learns more about the early 21st century, and eating out has consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Survived my first day of work! In other news, T asked for gay penguins. T got gay penguins.
> 
> TWs: anti-asian slurs, discussion of homophobia

Deke liked the lions. He liked the zebras. He hated the invertebrates section, and honestly Daisy couldn’t blame him, having only gotten over her fear of spiders—being locked in a lot of closets or basements as a kid does things to you—when she became able to quake them to death from halfway across the room. He liked the meerkats, a lot, dragging Daisy back there again and again to watch them popping out of their little holes and standing guard on their hind legs.

And the penguins. Deke _loved_ the penguins.

“There’s an entire colony, Daisy. Look at them, with their little _flippers_ …” She stepped up next to him closer to the wall of glass that allowed them to see into the underwater part of the penguin habitat, and felt his hand slide casually into hers, threading their fingers together. Her heart palpitated in her chest and she glanced down in surprise, looking up to find Deke smiling at her.

“You’re pretty when you blush.”

“I don’t _blush_ ,” Daisy said, mouth falling open briefly in indignation. “I wasn’t blushing!”

“Well, you are now,” he replied, his smile widening and expression turning impish.

“Jackass,” she muttered, turning away and bumping his shoulder with hers above their joined hands.

“I mean, you’re always pretty, but—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Daisy told him, laughing and certain her ears were burning now. It was…it was nice to be complimented like this again after so long, from someone she cared about in that way, even if she didn’t quite know how to take them or what to do with the small eruption of butterflies in her stomach. She’d laughed like this with Lincoln, too—laughing and kissing his nose and watching his cheeks go pink the first time she called him Pikachu—and all of a sudden the butterflies had turned to lead and all she wanted to do was drop his hand and cross her arms and be _anywhere_ else.

“What are those colorful things?” Deke asked her, having turned back toward the penguin exhibit again, and Daisy thankfully took the out, trying to wrestle her emotions back under control. Lincoln was _gone_ , and he wasn’t coming back, but he would want her to be happy. She was choosing this, and mourning Lincoln and being with Deke weren’t mutually exclusive, and May and everyone else had said—

_He would want me to be happy._

“The…the rainbow flags?” she asked, forcing her voice to be steady and finding it easier once she’d gotten the first few words out. _He would want me to be happy._ “You do know what a rainbow is, right?”

“Of course I know what a _rainbow_ is,” Deke said. “White light refracting into different colors through water droplets.”

“Okay, well—” Daisy had no idea whether he was right or not about that, to be honest, but she’d long since learned not to question a FitzSimmons when it came to science unless she wanted an hour-long lecture that, while loving, ended with her brain being twisted up like a noodle.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said just off to the side, and they both turned to see a young woman in boots and a light green polo shirt cuffed at the sleeves standing there. Her black hair was short and flipped sideways across her head and shaved close along the sides. Daisy’s eyes dropped to the bright red, pink, and white striped button with _she/her/hers_ on it right below her nametag pinned to her shirt on the opposite side of the embroidered logo of the zoo.

Okay, Daisy liked San Francisco.

“…but did you have a question about our penguin exhibit?” the woman continued. “I’m Sam, I’m the main zookeeper in charge of their care and I’d be happy to answer any questions you have.”

“Deke was just wondering about the gay pride flag next to some of their names on the sign,” Daisy said, giving her a smile.

“Oh, of course! That’s a very common question we get here,” Sam replied. “We have over forty magellanic penguins in our colony and about fifteen mated pairs. About six years ago, we observed two of our male penguins, Charlie and Epsilon, performing mating rituals with each other. We ended up giving them an egg this year that couldn’t be cared for by one of our other mating pairs. Their chick has grown up a bit now, but you can see her here—” They all approached the glass, and she pointed off to the side at a smaller penguin with downy feathers bobbing in and out of the water with a blue band on one flipper. “Her name’s Delta.”

“I love her,” Deke said, the hand that wasn’t still intertwined with hers flat against the glass and an adoring expression on his face.

Sam winked at Daisy. “Her two dads are up on that rock over there, with the orange bands.” She smiled. “I’ll be right over there if you have any more questions.”

“Thank you,” Daisy replied, turning back to Deke.

“The penguins are _adorable_ , Daisy.”

“I’m glad you like them,” she laughed.

“But there’s something I still don’t quite get,” he said, and Daisy felt her stomach drop. “Gay _pride_ flags?”

“What…what about them?” Daisy asked.

“Why pride?” Deke said, openness in his gray eyes. “I mean, isn’t it just…normal?”

“Oh,” Daisy said. “Oh. Um, no, it’s…I mean, it is, we can get married now and everything, just a lot of people hate it for some reason? Bigotry and all that.”

“That’s…awful,” Deke said, frowning. “In the Lighthouse we had too much else to worry about to care who anyone was bumping lemons with, I guess. Most everyone I knew swung both ways—my first crush was on this guy Reese when I was nine—”

“Well, I guess I would have fit right in there, then,” Daisy said, shifting on both feet. Deke opened his mouth as if to reply immediately but slowly shut it again, taking in her tight expression, the purse of her lips and tautness of her spine. He squeezed her hand instead, a soft pressure that eased some of the same in Daisy’s chest. She swallowed. “In the early twenty-first century, we just…we just have gay penguins. And pride parades.” She gave him a brief smile. “May actually took me to one once, the year I came out to her.” Daisy cleared her throat, pulling out the map from her pocket with her free hand and shaking it open. “Only one more section left,” she told him, resuming some facsimile of her normal tone of voice. “Primates.”

Deke nodded, taking one last look at the penguins and physically waving goodbye to Charlie, Epsilon, and Delta. “Which way?” he asked her.

Daisy led them there, their hands swinging back and forth slightly between them as they traversed nearly the entire length of the zoo—just because the map had been given to them as soon as they’d paid for their tickets at the front gate, thus circumventing their usual problem of forgetting to grab one, didn’t mean they were actually any better at plotting an efficient route, especially with Deke as one half of the party. Deke looked at her eagerly as they arrived, and at her warm nod, he released her hand, hurrying forward to read the informational plaques at the first exhibit. She watched his excitement fondly—Deke, like Simmons, was very much a read-all-the-signs person, whereas Daisy took a more laidback approach, discounting the time Billy Robinson dared her to try to climb into the lions’ cage on their third grade field trip.

She’d almost made it over the wall, too. Sister Margaret had _not_ been happy, especially with Mary Sue’s sarcastic comeback about how if God was real, she would have been perfectly safe, just like that Daniel dude in the Bible.

Daisy smirked a little at her younger self’s spunk even as her hands smarted a little from the memory.

“It’s a _squirrel monkey_ ,” Deke told her excitedly, calling her over. The animal in question chittered at them from a tree branch. “Doesn’t it look a little like Bobo?” She snorted; it did have a comical similarity in its movements and facial structure to Fitz. “We should text him a picture.” Daisy froze, the smile slipping off her face, but Deke wasn’t looking at her. “Do you have his number?”

_Fitz is dead Fitz is dead Fitz is dead Fitz is dead Fitz is dead—_

“Um…sure,” Daisy said, fumbling for her phone even as bile rose thick and fast in her throat. Fitz was dead, and she couldn’t tell him. Simmons asked her not to, and she couldn’t betray the trust of her sister of five years for a man she’d known a scant few weeks, even if he deserved to know. Even if keeping this secret was wrong, if the crushed look of hurt and betrayal he gave her when he finally did find out would destroy her…destroy them, this tiny, precious thing they were building, possibly forever. And for that matter, what was she even doing with him? Daisy was _leaving_ in a couple weeks, leaving for _space_ just as soon as Mack called to tell her the Zephyr retrofit was finished and he’d given the mission the go-ahead. She was _leaving_ , maybe for one month but possibly for _more_ , with no explanation she could give him without betraying one of the few bits of family she had left.

So what did that make this? Using him for companionship on this godforsaken roadtrip? Using him for comfort, for connection, knowing that soon this fantasy of no responsibilities and the open road she’d concocted for herself would burst and reality would come crashing in?

It was horrible, and selfish, and as much as Deke thought he wasn’t good enough for her, it was really, unequivocally the other way around.

“Daisy?” Deke asked uncertainly, and she came back to herself with a jolt to find him staring at her with a mixture of confusion and concern.

“He…he might not reply,” she said, hating herself for every word. Daisy held out the phone for him to copy the number underneath Fitz’s contact, willing her hand not to shake. “He’s pretty busy with Jemma.”

“Top secret project, right,” Deke nodded, typing it down into his own. He glanced up at her again once he had finished, brows furrowed and tongue darting out to lick his lips, clearly torn on what he was about to say.

 _Don’t_ , Daisy wanted to beg him. She didn’t know what she’d do if he pressed, the guilt eating her up inside and threatening to drown her. This was why she never should have gotten involved with anyone after Lincoln, and not just because letting him go felt like a betrayal on its own. She was too broken after what happened on that Quinjet and all the events that led up to it, too broken to have a chance of doing this right, of not messing this up before it really began and dragging Deke down with her. And after all she’d done, all she _continued to do_ , she certainly didn’t deserve it.

“Sorry, you get… _quiet_ when I talk about Bobo,” Deke said, stepping a little closer and keeping his voice low, just between the two of them. “And—and I just want you to know that I can stop if you want. I—I know he hurt you, and I’m not sure if you guys ever made up after, or if you even can after something like that…” He reached out toward her slowly, giving her ample time to pull away, but she held herself still, pretending she didn’t feel the shock of fear and phantom pain that jolted through her when his thumb brushed ever so slightly against the incision mark on her neck, the cold tingles and remnants of panic that ran down her back. Deke seemed to sense it anyway, stopping immediately and opening his arms to her instead. Daisy hugged him back, guilt still swirling around inside her—guilt at lying to him, guilt at her own relief for the out he had just given to her, guilt for the comfort she took in his arms around her, guilt for _everything_.

She really, really didn’t deserve this, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it go, either. Not when she’d tasted the happiness that being with someone could bring again. Not when she’d experienced the comfort his touch could bring, his care, his attentiveness. Not when she’d finally felt the stirrings of something _deeper_ within her own emotions that she had thought she might never feel again.

Not when he was the only _good_ thing she had left, with the rest of the life she had built falling apart around her.

“It’s…it’s complicated,” Daisy said, meeting his soft gray eyes pooled with understanding with her own.

“I heard you at night after it happened,” he told her, “through the walls. But I didn’t think…I didn’t think you’d want me to…”

“I wouldn’t have,” she admitted, remembering the twilight hours alone in her bunk, the tears and the panic and the _I asked him to stop, why wouldn’t he just_ stop— “It…it was better when May came back.”

“You two are close,” Deke said, his lips turning upward, and Daisy sensed him trying to shift the conversation to less dark places if she wanted. “She’s like a mom to you.”

“Yeah.” Daisy couldn’t help her own slight smile. She was, she knew that deep in her heart and she knew May did too, but it still meant so much to the tiny foster kid in her to hear someone else say it, purely from observation. “Yeah, she is.” She grasped his hand again, giving it a squeeze and then letting them fall by their sides. She pushed her guilt and doubt and self-hate to the back of her mind, crushing it down into a little molten ball deep in her chest where it couldn’t hurt anyone but her. Daisy lightened her voice, widened her smile. _And listen, with me... Sometimes I think it's an act too._ “So, picture with the squirrel monkey and then we’ll head to an early dinner?”

Deke grinned, handing her his phone. “If I crouch down just right, I bet we could get it so it looks like the monkey is sitting on my head, except for the bars.”

“Just wait until I introduce you to the wonders of Photoshop,” Daisy told him, shaking her head.

“What’s Photoshop?”

* * *

**To:** Leopold Fitz

| **4:59 PM** | [IMG_0212.jpg]  
---|---|---  
  
* * *

The Sunset District bustled with activity, a lively cacophony of Mandarin and Cantonese and the wheels of mini shopping carts against the cracked concrete. The edges of the streets were lined with bins of more exotic-looking fruits and vegetables, a few of which Daisy recognized from May as _foo qua_ and _gai lan_ and _fan su ye_ , while the smells of pastries and dim sum wafted in the air along with the occasional whiff of cigarette smoke. One look at the parking situation made Daisy glad they had left their overly large van back in the San Francisco Zoo’s parking lot—well, after Deke had deposited his gift shop purchase in it, nestling a small penguin figurine holding a bi pride flag into the pot of his bonsai tree—and walked the twenty-or-so blocks to Chinatown.

At her suggestion, they cleaned out the remnants of the Pineapple King Bakery right before it closed, then wandered further up the street while Deke waxed eloquent about the wonders of cocktail buns. They eventually decided on a hole-in-the-wall wonton place for dinner, sitting near the window to watch the passerby.

Deke stabbed one of the wontons on the plate with a singular chopstick, making Daisy wince. “Here,” she said, reaching across the tiny table and pushing the other chopstick into his hand. She tugged on his fingers, rearranging them into the correct form and remembering May’s own gentle touch doing it for her so many years ago. They had been on the Bus, then, and Skye still hadn’t been sure what to make of the stoic specialist, but they had gotten take-out on some refueling stop after a mission and Skye hadn’t even had time to be embarrassed by her lack of skill before May was there to teach her. It was one of the first moments of warmth she’d ever shared with the woman who would become her S.O., and the first positive association she’d ever had with the Asian heritage she’d so tried to distance herself from after growing up being called _chinkerbell_ and _jap_ and _dog-eater_ and _Ching-Chong China Girl_.

She missed May.

“Thanks,” Deke said, chasing one of the wontons around the plate but eventually managing to get ahold of it just long enough plop it into his soup bowl.

With more effort than it should have taken, Daisy forced her lips into a smile. “Just so I don’t have to take any more psychic damage watching you do _that_.”

He stuck out his tongue at her, then got distracted by the large, fluffy husky walking by out the window. “Did you ever have any pets?”

“At the orphanage?” she asked, well-familiar with Deke’s tendency to ask off-the-wall questions whenever something new occurred to him.

“Well, no, obviously not, but… _after_ ,” he said. “Didn’t you live on your own for a few years? With the guy, ‘Kilometers’ or something.”

“Miles,” Daisy said, but the quirk of her lips told him she appreciated the joke. “Yeah, off and on, but never…I didn’t like to stick in one place. My van I parked in this same alley in LA a lot once I discovered the cops didn’t really go there to ticket, but I always just felt safer knowing I was only a few steps away from turning the key in the engine and disappearing.” She yanked herself back out of the memories. “So yeah, no pets. I can’t imagine you had them in the Lighthouse either.”

“Definitely not. Unless you count Kasius’s servitors,” Deke said darkly. “It was… You wouldn’t believe how many people just wanted a dog in the Framework simulation, though. Like, yeah, there were some weird requests, especially from the Kreepers, but mostly people just wanted to escape to this world we’d grown up hearing about from our parents and our parents’ parents if they lived long enough for us to have known them. And it was the little things. Animals. Parks. A soft bed.”

“ _A world with ice cream, and the sun, and orange-scented stuff_ ,” Daisy said.

Deke looked down, a little embarrassed. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“Well, it was a pretty amusing speech. In retrospect.”

“Well, in retrospect when I was coding it into the Framework I had no idea what a park would even be like. I mean, we had video cobbled together from the archives the Blues didn’t destroy but it still doesn’t tell you what fresh air is like. Or the sun. Or what blades of grass feel like. They’re a lot less sharp than I imagined them.” Daisy got a sudden mental image of Deke’s Framework park simulation with little blades of grass sticking up out of the dirt like a nest of swords. “I really had no idea. I mean, neither did anyone else. We couldn’t conceive of…of any of this. Anything like this.” He trailed off, looking down.

“Deke…” Her voice was soft as she reached for his hand across the table.

“I just…I wish my mom could have seen this, you know? Or Tess, or Flint, or any of my friends.” He blinked, then darted his eyes up to meet hers. He cleared his throat, then dived in for another wonton, dropping it so aggressively into the bowl that a little soup splashed out. “So, if you could have a pet, what would you get? Actually, can we have pets?”

“At the base?” Daisy asked, readily accepting his change in the topic of conversation as if nothing had happened. “I don’t think Mack would be particularly down for that.”

“We could convince him, though…” Deke said thoughtfully. “Well, you, not me. Think about it; it’d be good for morale—liven up those dull gray hallways.”

“Cause a tripping hazard, maybe,” Daisy laughed.

“Yeah but an _adorable_ tripping hazard… A puppy in a S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. Do you guys have uniforms?”

Daisy thought about it. “Sometimes,” she decided. “And of course you would want a puppy; you basically _are_ a puppy.”

Deke scowled at her. “First a squirrel, now a puppy—make up your mind, Daisy.”

“A cute puppy?” Daisy offered, watching his cheeks go pink and deciding to double down. “You’re pretty when you blush too, y’know.”

“Oh, shut up,” Deke mimicked, but he was smiling.

When both of them were finished, Deke set the bowls in the correct racks and joined Daisy at the counter to pay. “No, no!” the man behind the aged cash register said, waving his hands when she tried to offer him her credit card.

“Oh, cash only? No problem,” Daisy said, reaching for her pocket and pulling out a twenty.

“No, nǐ bùzài zhèlǐ fù qián,” he insisted. “No charge!”

“I don’t…” Daisy said non-comprehendingly.

“Quake, no charge,” the man said, nodding at her. He waved them off again. “Thank you for coming, thank you. No charge.”

Daisy looked at him uncertainly, then dropped the twenty in the tip jar anyway, exiting the restaurant with Deke at her heels. “That was…” She glanced back at the door, the back of her neck prickling with the feeling of being perceived, seen, _recognized_. “We should get going.”

“Okay,” Deke said, falling into step beside her as she hurried down the street, intent on putting as much distance between them and the restaurant as possible.

“Sorry, it’s just…weird. When people know me,” Daisy said. “Still not used to it, I guess.”

Deke shrugged. “That makes sense. But at least he knew you as a hero—” Daisy grimaced at the use of the word. “—and not, you know, like back at the Lighthouse—”

“Destroyer of Worlds?” she offered.

“Hero has a much better ring to it.”

“The media usually goes for ‘vigilante,’” Daisy said, glancing behind her again before taking a deep breath, forcing herself to relax and focus on something else. Anything else. Besides, the likelihood of Watchdogs, or any of her myriad other enemies… “Also, Deke,” she said. “If you did want to tell me more about your mom someday…I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” he said, face slowly breaking into a smile. “Yeah, me too.”

* * *

**To:** Mack

| **9:02 AM** | _Yo, Tremors_  
---|---|---  
| **9:02 AM** | _Thought you should see this_  
| **9:03 AM** | _https://www.sfspotter.com/2018-05-30/Quake-spotted-at-SF-wonton-restaurant-15671259.php_  
  
_Read 9:14 AM_

* * *

“Oh no,” Daisy said, staring down at her phone. She jabbed at the link with her thumb, watching it load. “ _Fuck_.”

“What is it?” Deke asked from the seat beside her, leaning over.

“I think someone saw us,” Daisy muttered. “And wrote an article on it, one of those celeb-mag-Buzzfeed-hack types.” The page finished loading, coming up first with a picture of Daisy and Deke sitting in the restaurant, shot from outside the window. The sky reflected slightly off the glass, mostly obscuring Deke, but Daisy was clearly visible. “ _Fuck_.”

**QUAKE SPOTTED AT SAN FRANCISCO WONTON RESTAURANT**

_By: Brandi Smythe, 8:58 AM PDT_

_Infamous superhero vigilante Quake was spotted dining at in San Francisco’s Sunset District early yesterday evening with a man who has not been identified._

_Quake, otherwise known as Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division (S.H.I.E.L.D.) agent Daisy Johnson, has not been seen since her Congressional hearing in January, where she faced questions from the Senate Judiciary committee about her work as a vigilante and her status under the 2016 Sokovia Accords._

_Though she is currently wanted for questioning regarding the death of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Jeffrey Mace (for more information on the Inhuman scandal surrounding Mace and the suspicious circumstances of his death, click_ _here_ _), sources say Quake appeared relaxed and unconcerned at dinner, and did not appear to be participating in any agency operation. Viewed by many as part of the so-called Inhuman threat facing our nation, Quake is revered as a beloved hero in many online communities, including a petition on Twitter for Johnson to run for president in 2020 though the elusive Quake herself has no known social media presence._

_The restaurant in question, Hong Wonton, previously made headlines two years ago for association with Inhumans. Peter Hong, the owner of the establishment, made the news when his restaurant was partially destroyed after his son underwent the Inhuman transformation process ATCU scientists called ‘terrigenesis’ (see full_ San Francisco Chronicle _article_ _on the incident)._

_Did Quake know she was visiting a local establishment with known Inhuman ties, or was this just a coincidence? And who was the man with whom she was dining? Is he a fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or a secret boyfriend of this mysterious hero?_

_The world may never know, but if you want to eat at the same places as a real-life superhero, Hong Wonton is located at 2101 Irving St, San Francisco, CA._

_Mr. Hong declined to comment for this article._

**_READ MORE:_ **

[ _An In-Depth Analysis of Quake’s New Look and Where to Buy Her Signature Leather Jacket_ ](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632935788725878784/tumblr_PqfRpdqFAseaabiUR)

[ _Is Quake a War Criminal? Experts Weigh In_ ](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632936348736684032/tumblr_vMNQcoy1jk59ZLCyF)

[ _Clint Barton Retweets ‘BlackHawk’ Fanart, Destroys Internet_](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632938738728730624/tumblr_ax4rTAVXEvRQ2Dynr)

[ _Everything We Know About Quake So Far_](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632936465131831296/tumblr_QtnNT6xhnFeD91woB)

[ _10 Places the Avengers Like to Eat in New York City_](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632937915169783808/tumblr_JQMk6GRksr6vDJ8Gh)

[ _Could YOU Be at Risk for Terrigenesis? What Top Doctors Want You to Know_ ](https://aleksandrachaev.tumblr.com/private/632936667857256448/tumblr_6lm19tKVWotqArvsC)

Daisy’s forehead hit the steering wheel with a dull thunk. She held the phone out for Deke to read, then twisted her head so her temple was resting on the wheel instead to watch as his eyebrows rose into his hairline and the twitching of his cheeks as he struggled not to laugh.

“So much for staying under the radar,” Daisy groused as he handed it back. She jammed the key into the ignition and started up the van. “Let’s get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translation:**  
>  _nǐ bùzài zhèlǐ fù qián_ \- you don't pay here
> 
> (Is my gay agenda showing? Is it? _Is it?_ )
> 
> Hope you liked it! Also, now y'all can finally stop asking me why the blue exists. (And yes, those bottom 'read more' links are clickable, though I HIGHLY recommend using 'open in new tab' because Ao3 refuses to let me make that the default.)
> 
> Any and all feedback appreciated <3 Next update Sat, Dec. 19!


	9. In Which Shit Goes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watchdogs aren’t the only storm on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Angstlandia, as if you weren't already here in this fic :D

“Deke.” Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wheel, her voice low and serious. Dusty fields sped by them on both sides, hills or mountains in the distance but everything around them flat farmland. The sun bore down on the dark plastic of the dashboard from overhead, making everything feel vaguely baked despite the A/C blowing from the vents, ghosting over the tiny hairs on Daisy’s arms and making her skin prickle with gooseflesh despite how uncomfortably warm she felt everywhere else.

“Yeah?” He looked up from playing on her phone, seeming entirely unaffected by the temperature.

“Grab the gun out of the upper glove compartment.”

“You carry a gun?” Deke asked, setting the phone aside and fiddling with the locking mechanism of the compartment before tugging it open. He pulled out her Glock.

“We’re agents, Deke,” Daisy said. “Or, I am. You’re…probational?”

“Thanks,” he scoffed, examining the gun in his hands. “I’m starting to think you all are a little paranoid. Speaking of which, not that it’s not, you know, fun or whatever, but why am I holding this, exactly?”

“This car’s been following us for the last few miles,” Daisy informed him, eyes on the rearview mirror.

Deke looked around. “…We’re on the highway. There’s two lanes. There’s not much place else to go…?”

“It’s also a Ford. A brand favored by the Watchdogs,” Daisy said, another chill running through her. Maybe it wasn’t the temperature at all, just her own body, her instincts as an agent putting her on edge and readying for a fight. “It’s one of their things—” She grimaced. “— _buying American_.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s another thing I really don’t get about the past—present?” Deke said. “Countries.” She shot him a look, briefly taking her eyes off the road. “Like, what’s the point of them? Why are there so many?”

“High school dropout here, do you really want the politics lesson?” Daisy asked distractedly. “Fine, uh, countries exist to fight each other and maybe one day nuke the Earth out of viability. International Relations 101.” The Ford increased its speed, closing the distance between their bumpers. Three hundred feet…two hundred feet…

“That’s so dumb! Don’t they know when the aliens attack they’re not going to care what country you’re from?”

“Hold on,” Daisy said, readying her foot on the accelerator.

“What?”

“Hold on!” Daisy jammed her foot downward, causing the van to jolt forward, the speedometer needle shooting to the right.

“This feels dangerous!” Deke yelped, grabbing the armrest.

“Just a car chase,” she said. “Relax.” Her mouth twitched; maybe putting down a few Watchdogs—or remanding into custody, whatever—would relieve some of the ball of stress in her chest. “Gonna try a few things Robbie taught me.”

“Robbie the…part hell demon,” he said. “Oh, well, that’s…comforting.” Jerking the wheel to the left, Daisy cut in front of another car, then glanced back in the rearview. The Ford hadn’t followed them yet, but they probably realized they had been made and were holding back, pretending to be normal.She kept the pressure on the gas pedal, speeding forward at a breakneck pace, the van jumping slightly in the air over every crack in the concrete. Five hundred feet…six hundred feet…half a mile…two miles… The black Ford wasn’t even visible anymore.

“Daisy,” Deke said quietly. “They’re not following.”

But she had been so sure… “I know,” she said, easing up on the accelerator. “I _know_.” She removed her foot completely, watching the speedometer fall.

She could feel Deke’s eyes watching her carefully even as he placed the gun back in the glove compartment and closed it again with a plastic _click_. “Why don’t we stop for lunch in King City? Exit’s only in five miles.”

Daisy glanced at the rearview mirror again, her teeth clenched together, but there was nothing there. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay. McDonalds?”

The request made her lips quirk upwards, despite everything. “Fine, just don’t get us kicked out again.”

“I make no promises.”

* * *

**To:** Mack

| **1:30 PM** | can you send me any reports of Watchdog activity in central/southern CA?  
---|---|---  
| **1:30 PM** | _I thought you were on vacation_  
| **1:31 PM** | it’s…just a precaution  
| **1:36 PM** | _I’ll have it in your email in 30_  
  
_Read 1:36 PM_

* * *

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daisy asked as Deke slipped past her and reached for the driver’s side door handle.

“I’ll drive,” he said. “You’ve been driving almost the entire time, so I can take a turn…”

“So this has nothing to do with what happened earlier?” Daisy asked, a bite to her tone. _You’re paranoid, you’re too keyed-up…_ Hurt flashed in his eyes but he stood firm, and a second later a wave of regret washed over her. “No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.” She shook her head. “You can—you can drive.” Rounding the car again, she climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door behind her, tugging on her seatbelt. She turned away from him, looking out the window as he started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot. Her eyes checked for threats automatically, clocking the family exiting the McDonalds and the man lingering outside the Taco Bell across the way, but she couldn’t even tell if that was her instincts anymore or the taut feeling in her chest, tightly wound and ready to snap.

“That article really bothered you, didn’t it?” Deke said quietly as they made it safely back onto 101, leaving King City behind them.

“A lot of things are bothering me,” Daisy answered as honestly as she could. Deke glanced at her, then rested his arm on the center console between them, palm up and open. After a moment, she silently threaded her fingers through his.

The flat yellow fields slowly transitioned to hills, dotted with clumps of compact, green-brown trees, then on to mountains as they sat in mostly silence as the scenery rolled by. They stopped in San Luis Obispo for fuel, then continued onwards toward LA, watching the sun set over the ocean as they cruised next to the bluffs in Santa Barbara, painting the sky and the water in orange and pink. “Are you still good to drive?” Daisy asked as they neared Oxnard, an hour and a half further down the coast.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Deke said, “but aren’t we stopping soon?”

“Can we just…keep going?” she requested, her voice somber.

He looked at her in the semi-darkness, then nodded. “Sure, Daisy.”

It was two a.m. before they finally stumbled, exhausted, into a dingy motel not far from where Daisy had used to park her van and one that looked familiar enough that she might have even stayed a night or two during her break from S.H.I.E.L.D. Daisy tossed their bags in a corner and practically face-planted onto the bed, Deke flopping down beside her as soon as he had brushed his teeth. Too tired to do anything else, she inched herself high enough on the bed that she could tuck herself under the covers, then turned out the lamp, swamping the room in darkness. She could feel the warmth radiating from Deke’s body as he settled in too, but for the first night since Wallowa she couldn’t bring herself to reach out to him, to cross that seemingly insurmountable wall between them.

A wall that she herself had created, a wall that Deke probably didn’t even know existed, a wall that she couldn’t stop punishing him for even though he’d done nothing wrong. It was Daisy who was broken, Daisy who was trapped like a caught animal with nowhere to run.

“It’s not just the article, is it?” Deke’s voice came out of the darkness.

Daisy let out a deep breath, closing her eyes. “No, it’s not just the article.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me…but if it would _help_ …” She was silent, pained. “Is it Coulson?” His voice was soft, unsure. “I…I texted May today. I stole her number off your phone. But I thought maybe he’d gotten worse, or…” The sound of his swallow was audible; Daisy was barely breathing. “But it’s why you left in the first place, right? Why we’re on this trip at all.”

“Part of it, yeah,” Daisy said quietly. 

“But he’s okay,” Deke said. “Or, as okay as he can be when he’s…” He cleared his throat. “May said.”

“I…get a text from her every morning,” Daisy said haltingly. “About his…status.” She blinked, a strange tightness in her face, the vague burn of suppressed tears. “And one day, it won’t be a text, it’ll be a call, and…” She broke off, taking in a sweeping breath to try to calm her ragged breathing. “I get a _text_.”

Now he sounded confused, curious. “Isn’t…isn’t that a good thing?”

Daisy swallowed, her next words no more than a whisper, something she had never admitted to anyone clawing its way out of her chest, begging for release. “But I want to _be there_.”

He was silent for a moment. “Then why aren’t you?”

Anger flushed her veins at the simple question, or maybe it was anguish—it was hard to tell the difference these days. “Because they don’t want me there. Because they don’t want me to see it. Because they want to spend their last moments together, after so many years of waiting.” Hot tears filled her eyes. “And I get it, I do. I want that for them, I want them to be happy and together and to get that time they never had. I don’t want to intrude. I just… _I waited too_ , for so long, for someone like him. For a father. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to live knowing I could be spending this last bit of time with him but I’m _not_.”

“Because they left you behind,” Deke said gently, and Daisy knew he understood. He was quiet for a minute, long enough for Daisy to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, even though despite her exhaustion she was _so fucking far from asleep now_ — But when he spoke again, it was slowly, each word measured and careful. “It hurts when the people you love exclude you to try and protect you from things… ‘Cause you just want to be with them, and spend time with them, and be there for them when everything is horrible, and it’s like they don’t want the same with you.” Daisy’s breath hitched, and she shut her eyes, tears leaking out and down toward her hairline as his words hit a little too close to home, for both her situation and his. _God, he doesn’t even know that Fitz died…_

“People…people died all the time in the Lighthouse,” he continued, “but when you’re a kid, you never really think about it happening to you. You’re scared, because that’s just how life in the Lighthouse is, but when she tucks you in at night she promises she’ll always be there for you and you believe her, because she’s your mom and your mom can do anything. So when the Blues took her…she was just gone one day, and this giant smear of blood on the floor of our quarters. I didn’t know it was coming, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye… All I wanted for years after that was to have had one more moment with her. And with Coulson…you have that option.” He reached for her in the darkness, finding her hand and squeezing it tightly. “You should tell them how you feel. They’re your parents, or as good as, and they love you, Daisy.”

“We already said goodbye,” she told him tightly. “He…he wrote me a letter. What am I supposed to do, just show up at their doorstep in Tahiti?”

“If that’s what you want…then yeah.” When she didn’t reply, he added, “Trust me, Daisy. You don’t want your last memory of him to be holding this grudge, or wondering why he didn’t want you there. And Coulson…I haven’t known him as long as you all, but anyone could see how much he cares about you. He wouldn’t want you to be hurting over this. That’s the last thing he would want.”

“There’s no flights to the island they’re on,” Daisy said, but she was already weakening to his logic, to his calm reasoning, to the affirmations of what she wanted oh-so-badly. That she wasn’t being selfish. That she was wanted. That she was loved. 

“Then we go back to the Lighthouse, take a Quinjet,” Deke answered readily.

The words hit her like a bullet straight to the stomach, and she would know—she had taken a couple of those.

The Lighthouse. Jemma.

 _Fitz_.

She had to tell him. Not just because they were headed back to the Lighthouse, but because he was _right_. Simmons was shutting him out, just like she was shutting Daisy out, just like she’d felt shut out by May and Coulson. And Deke had been nothing but kind and patient and understanding…she couldn’t lie to him anymore.

She opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat, threatening to choke her. What if he hated her after this? He’d put up with so much already, her moods, her snark, and he’d done it all with a smile and open arms. What if this was the last straw? What if this was the thing that made him realize who Daisy really was, not the agent and superhero he looked at with that stupid sappy expression on his face, but someone who knew how much power she had over him, and _used_ him, and decided to hurt him anyway. Because that’s what happened to people Daisy cared about.

They got hurt, or they died, or they _left_.

They always left.

And in the end, she was always alone. 

“Deke,” she choked out, and he pulled her toward him immediately, incorrectly interpreting the cause of her distress. His arms folded around her, trapping her in his warmth, his goodness, smothering her in all the things she didn’t deserve.

“I’m here, Daisy,” he said, and the gentleness in his voice made her feel like she was drowning, the water slipping over her head in the sea of her own guilt.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Daisy said, hating herself with every word. But she forced them out anyway, dropping leaden from her mouth. “It’s about Fitz. He…he _died_ , Deke.”

“What?” An entirely different tone colored his voice, disbelief and hurt and non-comprehension. “Daisy, what are you talking about?”

“He died, during…during the battle against Talbot,” Daisy said in nothing more than a whisper. Her voice shook. “A building—he was trying to help Polly—and—and—”

Deke jerked away from her, and Daisy felt the loss keenly. This was it. He would hate her after this, hate all of them…he’d want nothing to do with them, or S.H.I.E.L.D., or her.

A second later the lamp on his side of the bed blazed to life, flooding the room with harsh yellow light that had Daisy squinting through the tears still coating her lashes, one hand shading her eyes. Deke looked at her, his face flushed and gray eyes full of pain. She pushed herself up too, her arms curling protectively around her knees. “And—and no one was going to tell me? No one thought, hey, his grandson might like to know that? No, Deke’s just this weird tagalong from the future, he doesn’t need to know that Fitz—” His breath caught, the anger fading to something more helpless, something infinitely worse. “ _You_ didn’t think to tell me?”

“I wanted to,” Daisy whispered, barely audible over the rumble of the air conditioner in the corner. “But Jemma asked me not to.”

“You said Bobo wouldn’t reply because he was busy,” Deke said. “You _lied_ to me. You let me believe you didn’t want to talk about it because you were hurting—you used that against me—”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He spluttered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but for once it wasn’t cute or funny or… “ _Nana_ didn’t want me to know?”

“She wanted to protect you—she didn’t think you’d find out—”

“She didn’t think I’d find out?! Oh, right, because Deke’s just going to abandon S.H.I.E.L.D. first chance he gets. Well, stupid me for not being able to figure out where I’m not wanted.”

“ _No_ ,” Daisy said forcefully, reaching out and grabbing his wrist. His other wrist, the one without the metric scar, because she didn’t need to hurt him any more than she already had. “Because there’s a second Fitz, and we’re going out to find him.”

“A second—” Deke’s eyes glazed over. “A second—there’s one frozen in space, isn’t there. Waiting to join you all in a future that no longer exists.”

“Yes,” Daisy said. “That’s the project Jemma’s been working on, retrofitting the Zephyr for long-term space flight.” He was silent, staring at the headboard, his expression stony and unreadable. Daisy slowly retracted her hand, but he made no reaction, still staring straight ahead.

A minute passed.

Two.

Daisy wondered if she should leave, give him his space. If he’d even want to see her anymore. She could leave him the van, take a Lyft to LAX, take a non-stop flight to JFK and get Mack to send some to pick her up—

“We’ll go to the Lighthouse,” Deke said in a low voice, still not looking at her. “I’ll talk to Nana. And then, we’ll get you to Tahiti.”

“We?” Daisy asked, scarcely daring to breathe. He reached for the switch on the lamp, clicking it and plunging the room into darkness again. She felt the bed shift as he settled down into it, curling onto his side away from her. Daisy reached out one hesitant hand between them, her fingers splaying against the hard, tense plane of his upper back, feeling him stiffen under her touch before relaxing ever so slightly. Unsure if she was doing the right thing, Daisy scooched closer to him, drawing her legs up under his and molding herself to his body, her hand slipping over his side to wrap her arm around his middle. For a second, Daisy was sure he was going to push her away, but there was a sniffle and a ragged exhale of breath before his fingers closed around her wrist, his thumb brushing ever so lightly across the back of her hand. Daisy could have cried at the gesture, but she didn’t, instead just continuing to hold him as the night hours dragged on til morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	10. In Which Other Agents Make Cameos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming, and not the kind with fun and friends and dancing. Kind of the opposite, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas to any of you who celebrate it, and for those who don't, happy random Friday in December or [insert other holiday]! Here's my present to you all :P

Deke’s eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed in the morning when they both stumbled out of bed to attempt some sort of functionality for the day. Based on the stiffness of his movements, Daisy guessed he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all despite their exhaustion, but he came out of the shower with a towel over his shoulders and his wet hair spiked messily atop his head looking much more human. Daisy handed him a cup of steaming coffee from the motel breakfast downstairs with cream and sugar just the way he liked it, and received a small smile in return. He perched himself on the bed next to her as she typed away on her laptop, searching for the earliest flights back to New York and purchasing a pair of tickets underneath the cover identities she had prepared for them before they left, just in case.

With flights booked, they headed downstairs to avail themselves of the rest of the continental breakfast, inhaling rubbery eggs and bagels with the faint aftertaste of preservatives and cups of yogurt just before it closed before heading back up to their room.

“We’ll have to repack,” Daisy said. “Commercial planes only allow carry-ons on economy.”

“What about the rest of our stuff?” Deke asked.

“We leave it in the van,” she replied. “Mack can send agents to get it later.”

“Yeah, but where are we parking the van?” He looked at her. “From what I’ve seen on this trip, parking is a hot commodity and you aren’t allowed to just do it anywhere.”

Daisy’s lips twitched upward, thinking of the little side alley next to the diner she’d frequented back in her Rising Tide days. “I think I know a place.”

* * *

**To:** Mack

| **11:35 AM** | we’re headed back to the Lighthouse. can someone pick us up from JFK tomorrow morning around 6am?  
---|---|---  
| **11:36 AM** | _Did something happen? Watchdogs?_  
| **11:36 AM** | no, nothing like that. i’ll explain when we get back  
| **11:40 AM** | _Send me the flight number, and I’ll send Agent Khan. He’s just finished flight training_  
| **11:41 AM** | _Do I need to talk to Deke?_  
| **11:42 AM** | no, he’s been…good. really good. i’ll explain when we get there, i promise  
| **11:43 AM** | _Have a safe flight, Tremors_  
  
_Read 11:43 AM_

* * *

Daisy glanced sideways at Deke, one hand holding her duffel. Wind swept across the rooftop of a building somewhere in Queens, selected by Mack as the pickup site. Other, taller gray and brown buildings surrounded them, but Daisy trusted the Director’s judgment as well as his desire to keep them under the radar. She pursed her lips, inwardly debating whether she should ask the question that had been weighing on her since their fight. It was horrific timing, with their ride arriving at any moment, but they were about to be back at the Lighthouse surrounded by other agents, and Daisy wasn’t sure the next time she’d have a chance.

“Are we okay?” she asked him.

His eyes scanned the sky, as if either of them would be able to see the cloaked Quinjet on approach. “Yeah,” he said quietly, but even though it was what she hoped to hear it didn’t really sound like a _yes_. After a few seconds, Daisy swallowed when he didn’t elaborate, looking away. Maybe she had ruined this, _them_ , after all. Maybe he was having second thoughts about accompanying her to Tahiti, too, and she wouldn’t blame him—

“I mean, I’m hurt, but it’s not…it’s nothing I can’t get over, with a little time,” he said. “And it’s not…important right now, you know?”

“You get to be hurt, Deke,” Daisy said, letting the duffel fall to the ground with a dull _thump_. “I lied to you, and I kept lying to you, even after we started being…us, instead of just you and me.”

“You lied because someone you love asked you to,” he said with a sigh. “Someone you’ve known a lot longer than you’ve known me.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” she said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Deke agreed, turning to face her for the first time. “But you’re more important to me than your mistakes. And you’re having the shittiest time right now, and you could use someone actually willing to be there for you, and I’d rather be in your corner than spend my time being mad at you.”

“Deke…” She looked at him, a strange swelling sensation in her chest. What he was offering…

“Hey,” he murmured, catching sight of her expression. He dropped his own duffel and reached for her. “Hey, c’mere.” His warm hands cradled her jaw, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I told you, _I’m not going anywhere_.”

Daisy gave a small, watery laugh, breaking into a smile. “That’s a new one for me.” Jet engines sounded above them and a blast of wind from above whipped through her hair, sending dust and bits of trash whirling about the rooftop. Deke released her, his arms falling to his sides as the bulk of the Quinjet came into view, shimmering into existence as it touched down. They each picked up their duffels and headed for the ramp, which extended to admit them.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent wearing a pilot’s headset appeared at the bottom of it, holding out his hand for Daisy to shake. “Agent Trevor Khan, it’s an honor to meet you, ma’am,” he said. He nodded at Deke. “You must be the one the director referred to as ‘Lemons.’”

“This is Deke Shaw,” Daisy said with an amused glance at Deke.

“Right. Well, that’s not what it says on the passenger manifest Agent Rodriguez signed off on, but welcome aboard, Mr. Shaw.”

“Thanks for the ride,” she told him.

“No problem. It’s good to get my hours in,” Agent Khan said. “Make yourselves comfortable and stow your stuff, it’s an hour’s flight back to the Lighthouse.”

“We really need to talk to Mack about my title,” Deke grumbled to Daisy once their pilot had disappeared back up front.

“Trust me, lemons is _not_ the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”

“No, not that,” Deke waved a hand dismissively. “Mr. Shaw. _Agent Shaw_ has a better ring to it, don’t you think? What is the process for becoming an agent? Is it just, take an oath to have and to hold the Constitution or whatever, or is there an application of some sort—Mack would fast-track me through the paperwork, right?”

Daisy nodded emphatically, fighting and failing to suppress the upward tug at one corner of her mouth. “You should definitely ask him; he’ll love that conversation.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Deke said, throwing his duffel onto one of the upper racks and then tapping the side of his head. “I’m one half the combined genes of FitzSimmons, remember? As far as secret-government-totally-not-Illuminati-like-organizations go, I’m a _catch_.”

“I _really_ need to look back into restricting your internet access, don’t I?”

“You can’t stop the signal, Daisy.”

“And your access to early 2000s cult TV shows.”

* * *

Daisy let her fingers trail along the cold cement walls of the Lighthouse, the slight roughness scraping against her fingertips. After nearly three weeks of being bathed in the sunlight of the outdoors just outside the windshield, the Lighthouse felt especially dark and cramped to return to, her mind straying back to thoughts of plastic sheets hung from the ceiling and a cold metal table, the feeling of a scalpel digging into her skin mixing with the shock and horror of the black body bag he’d come back in.

Taking a steadying breath, Daisy stopped in front of Mack’s open office door, rapping her knuckles against the doorframe.

“Come in,” he called, looking up as she crossed the threshold into the room, taking in the flag and S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol on the walls and the picture of Elena on his desk, along with the plethora of computer equipment covering the rest of it. He broke into a wide smile. “Tremors.”

“Hey, nice setup. You’ve spruced the place up since I saw it last,” Daisy said, talking both about the office and the changes she had seen along the way—more agents in the hallways, some of the old 80s tech removed and replaced, the upgraded appliances in the common areas that were at least from this century.

“Yeah, we’re getting settled in here,” he nodded. “It’s not the Playground, but… I think we’ll get used to it.” He stood up from his chair, rounding the desk and coming toward her. His dark, perceptive eyes swept up and down her appearance, though Daisy didn’t think she looked much different than normal in her usual leather jacket and boots, besides maybe a slight tan and a lack of sleep. Well, it was S.H.I.E.L.D., the lack of sleep wasn’t all that new either. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, Mack,” she told him, closing the door behind her.

“I’m surprised you both came back here,” he told her, still studying her carefully. “Together.”

There was a difference in the way Mack studied her than most people, even May or Coulson—an openness there, concern and warmth born of their partnership that had never faded even after she’d left S.H.I.E.L.D. behind the first time.

“In one piece, you mean?” Daisy asked, going for a joke. Mack’s expression didn’t change, waiting. “No, Deke’s… We misjudged him, a little. He’s talking to Simmons right now. I think they…need some time alone.”

“I see,” Mack said. He raised one eyebrow. “So you and he…?”

“Don’t go all big brother on me,” she told him, smiling and shaking her head.

“Hey, hey, I’m just asking,” he said, holding up his hands. “Simmons may have mentioned something…”

“Yeah, we’re…figuring things out,” Daisy decided on cautiously.

Mack paused, still watching her—for what she didn’t know. “He’s good to you?”

She ducked her head at the question, her expression briefly obscured by a curtain of dark hair. “Better than I deserve.”

“Never,” Mack said, walking closer. “I’m happy you were able to find somebody. You’ve been through as close to hell as we can get on this earth and are still going through it. You deserve happiness, Daisy.” He opened his arms to her, and Daisy stepped into them immediately. Mack-hugs were unlike hugs from anyone else, engulfing her in his arms, everything solid and warm and steady.

“Thank you,” Daisy said when he released her.

“It really is good to see you, Tremors,” he told her. “Now, what brings you back?”

* * *

The sounds of shouting caused Daisy to increase her speed. _“So what, you just weren’t going to tell me?”_ Deke was yelling.

 _“You didn’t need to know!”_ Simmons. Daisy was half-jogging now, following the sounds of their voices and practically throwing open the door to the lab.

“No, what you’re saying is I didn’t _deserve_ to kn—”

“Guys, what the hell,” Daisy said, throwing herself in between them. Simmons was flushed, angry, two bright points of red high on her cheekbones, while Deke’s lashes were wet, his arms akimbo as he’d gesticulated but now held tightly in front of himself after Daisy had arrived, his left hand twisting around his wrist where the metric had been embedded, a clear sign of his distress.

“Can I talk to you?” Simmons demanded icily to Daisy, stalking toward her.

Well. She should have known that was coming. “Fine,” Daisy told her, turning back to look at Deke. She caught his hand from where it was running over his arm, pulling his fingers away and squeezing it in her own. Deke swallowed, nodding that he would be okay. Jemma stood watching the interaction with bright, hard eyes before leading Daisy to the supply closet just off the main lab, the door slamming shut behind them.

Simmons rounded on her. “I explicitly asked you not to tell him.”

“Hello to you too,” Daisy said.

“Oh, don’t give me that—” She glared at her, her face stony. “I. Asked. You.”

“Well, that’s not fair, Jemma,” she said. “It wasn’t exactly easy lying to him all this time, and he deserved to know.”

“He didn’t need to go _through_ that,” Jemma said, aghast. “Not when Fitz is still out there. This pain, this…this _hell_ …”

“He wanted to!” Daisy said, her own voice raised now. “He wanted to be there for you, to connect with you—”

“My husband’s death is not a bonding exercise,” Jemma snapped.

“He’s family, Jemma!” Daisy pushed onward, three weeks of pent up frustration just flowing out of her now. “And you’re the one who’s been telling him that all this time. What were you gonna do when we do find Fitz, and bring him back, and he doesn’t even know who Deke is? ‘Oh, sorry Deke, the Fitz you knew died six months ago and we didn’t tell you but here’s a replacement model, you can start over with him!’”

“How dare you,” Simmons asked coldly.

“You know what I mean, Jemma…” Daisy took a hesitant step forward, forcing her breathing to slow slightly, modulating her voice to something softer. “Can’t you see how fucked up this all is?”

“You think I don’t know?” she demanded. “You think I’m not mourning the Fitz we lost every night, every day? The difference is I am willing to do whatever it takes to get him back, even if it’s not the same Fitz I married—”

“And so am I!” Daisy burst out, everything heated now. “We’re going on this mission together; I’m mission lead! Me! But that doesn’t mean you can just shut Deke out—”

Jemma scoffed, a harsh, cruel noise that was very different from the young scientist Skye had cuddled up with in their tiny bunks on the Bus to watch trashy rom-coms together. “Just because you go off for three weeks and fall in love with him doesn’t make you right for siding with him. It just makes you a bad friend.”

“Me? A bad fri— First of all, I’m not _in love_ with him. And second, you’re the one who’s been a bad friend!” A tremor shook through the floor, and Daisy stepped back, surprised at the loss of control, but another look at Jemma’s face sent her right back in it. “I have _tried_ to be here for you, Jemma, and then when you didn’t want that I tried to give you space—I’ve tried to be what you needed, but you just shut me out at every turn. And you know what?” Daisy asked, her voice rising louder and louder, until she was practically shouting. “You’re not the only one who lost Fitz!”

“ _You_ lost Fitz?” Jemma demanded. Her voice fell to a whisper, all the anger draining from it and leaving it low and defeated and pained. “You were so angry at him, Daisy, and you had every right to be. And I couldn’t put the weight of my grief on you, after what he did to you.”

“Jemma…” Daisy blinked, completely stopped in her tracks. All the fight bled out of her with those few words, replaced with understanding, an agonized clarity of the last few weeks of her life, interactions and inactions and everything in between. Every scrap of hurt she had felt at being pushed away, rejected, ignored, powerless, over and over again… “Jemma, I would have put all that aside. I _did_ put it aside.” She reached for Jemma’s hand, flushed with relief when she didn’t pull away, her eyes wide and pained and digging into Daisy’s. “Yeah, I was mad at Fitz and yeah, I still have nightmares about that day because I trusted him, but I didn’t want him to _die_. You both are my best friends in the world. I would do anything for you, Jemma. And feeling like you were shutting me out…” She took a deep breath. “We all know what it’s like to be the one shut out. And Deke… Even if you didn’t want him around the way you didn’t want me, he deserved to know he died.”

“I did want you around, Daisy,” Jemma murmured, her eyes bright with tears. It was the first crack in the hard, angry, closed-off exterior that Daisy had seen since the day they’d brought Fitz back, since Piper and Davis prepared his body and they’d all stood by as it was lowered into the ground. Daisy didn’t wait another second, throwing her arms around Jemma and hugging her tight, feeling the other woman sag against her. They clung to each other, clung to each other the way they had upon discovering the rest of the team had been replaced, hope and desperation and relief and like they were the only two people left in the world.

“I love you,” Jemma mumbled into her hair. “I love you, Daisy, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you too, Jemma,” Daisy promised. When they pulled apart, she had to wipe her own eyes. “Deke and I have to go to Tahiti—”

“He said.”

“But when I come back, when we’re on the Zephyr, we’re going to do this together, okay?”

“Okay,” Simmons said, nodding.

“Call me until then. Every day.”

“I will.” Jemma glanced toward the door, shifting on her feet. “I owe him an apology, don’t I? God, I don’t even know what I was thinking, Daisy, I just was trying to hold everything together and keep it all inside—”

“That British stiff upper lip,” Daisy said. “He’ll forgive you in a heartbeat once you do, Jem. Deke’s…he’s special like that. And if you want him to feel included…”

“The ship could use another engineer, couldn’t it?” Jemma asked. Sharing a conspiratorial look with Daisy, she pulled open the supply closet door and led the way back out into the lab proper. Deke was still there, hunched over the lab table. With his back to them, he looked so much like Fitz in that moment, fiddling with parts, tinkering and creating with whatever he could find, that she heard Jemma’s breath hitch next to her at the sight. They rounded the table, and only then did he look up, his gaze going first to Daisy and then sliding to Jemma. In front of him was something cobbled together from twisted wires and what looked like little mini LEDs; Jemma probably would have been able to figure out what it was, but Daisy was in the dark.

“She’s right, you know,” Deke said before either of them could say anything. His voice was low, flat. “I want to forgive you, Nana.”

“And I want you to come on the ship with us,” Simmons said. “Wait, you heard us?”

“You were just in the supply closet. What, was I supposed to go away?” Deke asked, but there was no bite to it. “You really want me to come?”

She stepped toward him. “Yes,” she assured him. “And I really am sorry, Deke. I told myself I was trying to protect you, but…I was really just trying to protect myself.”

Deke nodded jerkily, then looked at Daisy. “How long til we’re supposed to leave?”

She consulted her phone. “Davis texted me he was ready to be wheels-up…half an hour ago.”

He opened his arms and Simmons hugged him tightly. “You can call me too,” she told him. “And Deke…he would have been proud of you, if he’d gotten to know you better under less…perilous circumstances. Deep down, he was anyway. And when we find this Fitz—he’s going to be proud of you too.”

“Thanks, Nana,” Deke said hoarsely. She hugged Simmons again too, and Deke stuffed the bit of tech he was working on into his pocket before letting Daisy lead the way out of the lab and toward the hangar. “You’re okay with this, right?” he asked as they rounded the corner. “Me, with you guys on the Zephyr, it’s a big step. I mean, a lot to sign up for. Or…”

“We’ve been trapped in a tin can for three weeks together and you’re coming with me to gatecrash on my parents in Tahiti so I can watch my dad die,” Daisy pointed out.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“I do want you to come,” she told him, happy to put the last of his fears to rest.

“Okay.” He gave her a quick smile. “Good.”

The area around the Zephyr was abuzz with activity, agents going in and out wearing welding masks and wielding torches, but the space around the Quinjet was markedly empty. Daisy and Deke mounted the ramp to find two people already in the front seats—Davis, headset on, and Piper, her legs kicked up casually across the dash as she reclined in the copilot’s chair. “Took you two long enough,” she greeted them, kicking her legs down and standing up to give Daisy a brief hug.

“Oh, are you coming too?” she asked.

Piper shrugged, glancing back at Davis who was now studiously doing the final pre-flight check with a smirk. “Yeah, he’s my sidekick, he doesn’t go anywhere without me to protect his dumb ass.”

“Excuse you, I did perfectly fine on missions before you came along,” Davis replied.

Piper turned back to Daisy, smiling. “Besides, if I don’t keep him company on the flight back, he might _fall asleep again_ and crash into the Eiffel Tower or something.”

“That was _one time_ and Luke had kept us both up for forty-eight hours—” He cut himself off. “Also, France isn’t even on the way to Tahiti, _genius_.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you on board,” Daisy said, hiding her smile. She looked at Davis. “You did do some more flight training since the last time on the Zephyr, right?”

“A little.” He flipped a few more switches above his head, then started the engines in a low rumble that shook the entire aircraft. “Eleven hours to Tahiti. Strap in.”

* * *

The Quinjet landed on the beach several hundred meters from the house, kicking up dust and sand. “We’ll be here until you say otherwise,” Davis told them, pulling out a book, while Piper reclined across the dash again. Leaving their bags stowed, Daisy and Deke picked their way across the beach and toward the small house that stood at the edge of it, otherwise shrouded in brightly colored greenery except for the the back porch extending into the sand. They rounded it to come in from the front. Daisy stopped at the start of the cobblestone path to the door. “They’ll have heard us coming in,” she said, but her feet remained frozen, rooted to the ground. May and Coulson had left very clear instructions that they didn’t want to be disturbed. Why hadn’t she called? She should have called.

“They’ll be glad to see you,” Deke told her gently.

Daisy nodded, then forced herself to keep going, one foot in front of the other until she was standing at their door. She knocked, three firm taps of her knuckles against the cream-painted wood, and then she waited, Deke lingering a few steps behind her.

The door opened three inches, a sliver of May’s wary face visible on the other side. It immediately dropped into confusion, not that, being May, there was much change in expression at all. “Daisy…what are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, _another_ sort-of cliffhanger?? My bad :P 
> 
> Any and all feedback always appreciated <3
> 
> Final chapter will be posted on NYE!


	11. In Which It's a Magical Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming, Part II, and epilogue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it! This is the end. I'll...just let you read, shall I?

“Hi, May,” Daisy said, her throat dry despite the island’s humid heat. “I just needed to talk to you guys. Can I come in?”

May nodded toward Deke. “Him too, I assume?” she asked, but she opened the door fully anyway, revealing the gun in her other hand that had been concealed behind it.

“Old habits die hard, I see,” Daisy said, stepping across the threshold into the quiet house. The front entryway was small, walls painted the same cream color as the door, shadowy but with light spilling out on either end as the hallway opened up to what looked to be a bedroom to the left and the living room to the right.

“Watch who you’re calling ‘old,’” May deadpanned as Deke followed her through. She shut the door behind them, then led the way further inside. Daisy’s eyes took in every little detail she could as she passed them—the small, cozy kitchen with a tea kettle sitting on the stove, the two orange pill bottles on the counter, the tube of sunscreen next to it. Then she turned to her left—a glass door to the back patio through which sunlight streamed through, a patterned gray couch, a small table with steaming mugs of tea, two twin cushioned chairs, and _Coulson_.

Daisy hadn’t known until quite that moment how much she’d been holding her breath, how much she hadn’t quite expected to see him _alive_ again. Not after they’d said goodbye, not after he’d pressed that letter into her hands and told her he was proud of her, not after he’d given her a spaceship and she’d known it was because he still wanted her to lead—maybe not now, but someday, when she was ready, because _you’ve always been capable of more than you think_ and _it’s funny what can happen when someone believes in you_.

A light blue blanket was tucked around his legs, his face more careworn, but his eyes as soft and warm as ever. “Daisy?” he asked.

“Sorry to just…show up unannounced,” she said haltingly. May set a chair from the kitchen down next to her on the carpet, and Daisy perched on the edge of it, Deke relegating himself to the far side of the couch in an attempt to be as unobtrusive as possible. “I just…needed to see you, I guess. Before…”

“We talked about this,” May said, with a glance at Coulson. Daisy couldn’t help but notice that even sitting side by side in two separate chairs, their hands were touching. “We agreed, Daisy—”

“I know,” she cut her off. “I know. And at the time…” A new breath surged into her chest, forcing the rest of the words out. “At the time, I thought I could just say goodbye like that, but I can’t.” Her eyes shifted to Coulson. “I can’t.” Her hands trembled in her lap, and she twisted them together. “I’ve been feeling…lost, and cut off, and at first I thought it was because you were dying and I wasn’t ready and I’m still not, but it’s also…you’re dying and I couldn’t be there. Wasn’t allowed to be there.” Was that the floor shaking, or was she? “ _That you didn’t want me there_.”

“Daisy,” Coulson whispered. “ _Never_ , Daisy. We only wanted to spare you the pain.”

“I know that,” she said. “Rationally, I know that. But it’s more painful for me to know there was time I could have been spending with you, and I wasted it. And I don’t want to intrude on your special couple time or anything—I know you guys have been waiting a lifetime for this—”

“Two, if you count the Framework,” Coulson said with a sly glance at May.

Her lips twitched. “Don’t remind me.”

“—and I know this was supposed to be your time and you have specific instructions to Mack that you’re not to be disturbed, but—”

“Daisy, stop,” Coulson said. “We’re glad you did.”

“You’re never a disturbance,” May promised her. She looked sideways at Deke. “You may have _brought_ one…”

“He’s house-trained,” Daisy said with a watery laugh, giving him a wink. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Stay with us,” Coulson said.

“I—what?” Daisy asked. She had been expecting visits, an afternoon here, a morning there, but—

“There’s a spare bedroom. Stay,” he said again. “It may be days. A week, maybe. We’re already on the outside of Simmons’s initial timeline, but you’re welcome, as long as you want to be here. Until the end.”

She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. She looked around the room. “So, um, what’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that,” Coulson said. “Sun and sand, that kind of thing…”

“Been doing a bit of parasailing,” May added.

“Parasailing?”

“Bucket list thing, you know,” Coulson shrugged his shoulders. He immediately tensed, his breath coming out in a hiss as his eyes closed briefly. May watched him with concern, the sudden tautness of her frame at odds with the resigned expression on her face.

“Are you in pain?” Daisy asked quietly once he had relaxed, looking even older and more worn than before.

“Not always,” he told her. He smiled. “Less now that you’re here.”

Daisy’s smile was strained. “That’s not an answer.”

“Jemma gave me pills,” Coulson assured her. “But they make things foggy…for my last days on this earth, with the two of you, I want to be present for every second of it.”

She nodded, blinking rapidly. “Can I hug you?” she asked.

He opened his arms immediately, and maybe they rose more slowly and gingerly and normal, but they were open all the same. She was out of the chair immediately, launching herself toward him only to stop dead before leaning down carefully, gingerly, careful not to hurt him. Ignoring the awkward angle, she pressed herself gently into his shoulder, swimming with relief that she finally got to be here in this moment with them, and all the moments that would come after. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Dais.”

* * *

Darkness had long since fallen outside, Piper and Davis sent off into it back to the base. The kitchen was bathed in light from the lamp above the table. May stood at the sink washing dishes because she’d declined both their offers for them to do it, and Deke watched looking like he had half a mind to spring up and help anyway. Dinner had been a pan-seared salmon with miso sauce, so there weren’t that many, and Daisy was content to sit and talk quietly with Coulson at the table. The water shut off as May finished, drying her hands on the towel, then approaching Daisy.

“We usually head to bed around now,” she murmured. “Your room’s already made up.”

“Thanks,” she said, rising.

She turned to Deke. “You’re free to take the couch, or there’s a hotel nearby—”

“No, it’s fine,” Daisy said quickly. “He’s with me.”

May lifted an eyebrow. “It’s a twin bed.”

Daisy reached a hand out towards Deke, who took it immediately, allowing himself to be pulled close, her arm wrapping casually around his waist. Coulson’s eyebrows flew to his non-existent hairline. “We’ll be fine. Thanks, May.”

After a brief pause, May nodded, leading the way once they grabbed their bags from where Piper and Davis had dropped them at the front door and said goodnight to Coulson. She showed them to a small bedroom just down the hallway, then left them to it, a muttered “Close your mouth, Phil,” audible as Daisy shut the door behind her.

“I don’t think they meant parasailing,” Deke said as he climbed in bed next to her that night. It was smaller than any they’d slept in, but Daisy wasn’t complaining as she settled her head just above his shoulder, her chin resting lightly against bare skin, one of her legs entangled with his. “I’ve seen YouTube videos and I just can’t see Coulson and May doing that.” Deke shifted, looking down at her. “I think they meant… _bumping lemons_.”

“Deke! Ew!” Daisy hissed, glancing at the wall that separated them from the bathroom that separated them from the master bedroom. “That’s my parents you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you smiling?” he asked, and shit, she was. Deke just hugged her a little closer. “Seeing them happy makes you happy; I saw it on the Confederacy ship.”

“Mm,” she hummed. She thought back to all the small moments she had seen from May and Coulson over the course of the day, the signs of struggle and adaptation. The way May had to help him out of the armchair, the slowness with which he hobbled to the table, that blue blanket that seemed to follow him everywhere despite the warmth of the house. “They did seem happy, right?”

“In general, or that you’re here?” he breathed.

“Both?” she said, dropping her gaze to where her fingers were tracing absentmindedly over the hard planes of his stomach.

“Yeah, Daisy, they seem happy,” he assured her. “They’ve been making lemon eyes at each other since I’ve known them—”

“Since the Bus,” Daisy scoffed, her lips quirking upward. “Wait, are you serious, _lemon eyes_ , is that a phrase—?”

“No, I just made it up,” Deke said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. “We weren’t _that_ lemon-obsessed in the future…”

“So it was just you then.”

“Do you want me to answer your question or not?” he whined.

“Yes, please continue, lemon boy.”

Deke huffed. “They seem happy. And they were definitely happy to see you, Daisy.”

“And you?” she asked, her fingers resuming their movements over his abs. “Are you happy you came, I mean. I know it’s a little weird—”

“Daisy, it’s fine.”

“—but facing this without you would be a lot worse.” Her eyes met his. “I really, really appreciate it, Deke. And I kinda wanted him to get to know…us, before he goes. To know that even besides May, I won’t be alone.”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be than be here for you,” he assured her. He paused. “Except from his facial expression when you said the whole bed-thing I wouldn’t put it past Coulson to give me the airlock talk tomorrow, so that’s…great.”

Daisy chortled. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Airlock talk,” Deke said. “ _If you hurt my daughter, I’ll push you out an airlock?_ —well, I guess you guys don’t have airlocks here, but…what is the non-quaked-Earth equivalent? One of those hot springs? Oncoming traffic? Ooh, one of those ponds with the alligators in that state we watched that hanging Brad documentary about? With the bush dude who got gored.”

“That was…wildly inaccurate,” Daisy laughed against his skin. “I think we call it the ‘shovel talk’? As in, if you hurt my kid, I bury you with this shovel. Or bash you over the head with it, I’m not really sure.”

“Airlock’s better,” he said, making a face. “Less messy. Less physical labor.”

“I’ll remember that when we’re in space,” Daisy teased. “But, if they do it…” She pushed herself upward far enough to capture his lips in a soft, slow kiss. “I promise I’ll protect you from mean, scary Coulson.”

“Mean, scary _May_ ,” Deke corrected.

Daisy laughed. “For that one, you’re on your own.” She patted his face. “I bet if you asked, though, you could get Simmons to give _me_ a shovel talk for you though. Don’t hurt my grandson and all that.” She shivered. “Jemma can be _terrifying_.”

* * *

 **To:** Jemma Simmons

| **9:45 PM** | call me?  
---|---|---  
| **9:45 PM** | shit wait no sorry it’s 4am in new york  
| **9:46 PM** | does tmr at 2 work?  
| **1:02 AM** | _talk to you both then :)_  
  
_Read 7:33 AM_

* * *

“So, Deke,” Coulson said the next afternoon, the four of them once again sitting in the living room after a morning spent lounging on the beach. Deke’s head shot upward at his tone, and Daisy did not miss the subtle way May leaned forward in her chair.

“Daisy, could you give us the room, please?” May asked, her tone entirely even and uninflected but at the same time one clearly not to be messed with.

“Uh, if this is what I think it is, I actually promised I’d stick around,” Daisy said.

May raised an eyebrow at Deke. “Can’t face us alone?”

Daisy blinked impishly at them. “Why would I want him to?”

Coulson looked like he was fighting a smile, but turned to Deke anyway. “Deke. You seem like a good man. You’ve helped S.H.I.E.L.D. out on more than a couple occasions, one of which should have cost you your own life. However, if you hurt Daisy…”

“If he hurts Daisy, Daisy will quake him into a wall,” Daisy cut in. She quirked an eyebrow. “And not the fun kind.” Deke choked. She caught May’s eye, and the look that would have said a _re you trying to send your father into an early grave?_ if that kind of thinking had been anything but morbid and too close to home. “What?” she asked cheekily. “I’m just saying.”

“We’re well aware you can take care of yourself,” May said. She affixed Deke with a patented murder stare anyway. “Hurt her, and I’ll kick your ass.”

Daisy scooted sideways closer to him until their sides are pressed together, placing her hand possessively over his thigh. She made eye contact with May. “Kick his ass without me telling you to, and I’ll kick yours.”

“Deal,” May said, a small, proud smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Coulson’s, however, was broad. “Well, now that that’s over with, ice cream? I’m thinking ice cream.”

“ _Phil_.”

“What? When you’re dying I don’t really think there’s a _limit_ to how much ice cream you’re allowed to eat…”

* * *

TWO WEEKS AND ONE DAY LATER

She tapped her fingernail against the edge of the tablet’s screen, eyes skimming over the list one more time, every single item checkmarked and checkmarked again as she stood in the Zephyr’s main storage area, tightly filled with palettes of food and water and supplies and crates of weaponry all stacked on top of each other and lashed down with thick plastic straps. Sighing, she marked the list as complete and sent the inventory confirmation off to Mack, wondering if there was a galactic 7-11 if they did happen to forget something and what kind of currency they accepted.

What kind of _space_ currency.

Well, they were about to find out. Tucking the tablet under one arm, Daisy hefted her backpack a little higher on her shoulders and picked her way out of storage, mentally still running through things like ration packs anyway. Normally Simmons was the excel-at-preparation one, but as mission leader—and one of the poor schmucks trapped on the spaceship should they forget something important like _fuel_ or _replacement CO2 scrubbers_ —she also took it upon herself to double and triple check the agents’ work. She and Deke had been back at the Lighthouse for a few days now, and after, well, the funeral, they’d thrown themselves wholeheartedly into final preparations on the Zephyr. The final mission team would include twelve agents, all told, including herself, Simmons, Deke, Davis, Piper, and seven other agents who’d volunteered for the op that Daisy was sure she’d get to know over the coming days. Two of them were additional pilots, not that she _distrusted_ Davis’s skills.

Much.

Reaching her bunk, Daisy hit the mechanism with her fist, causing the door to slide open. The cramped interior reminded her of their old bunks on the Bus despite the darker color scheme, the bed surrounded by walls on three sides and barely a foot and a half between the open side and the door. Empty cutouts to serve as shelves were built into the walls, while most of her belongings had already been stuffed in the storage area underneath the bed. After flying it back from LA, the van in which they had traversed more than 4,815 miles had been requisitioned for surveillance ops by Mack and the personal items like clothes and toiletries and whatnot that they were taking with them carefully packed into the Zephyr. The last and most important of them were in Daisy’s backpack, which she set on the bed before unzipping carefully.

Her gauntlets came out first, put on the left side of the shelf at the foot of the bed for easy access. An envelope full of pictures next—a little analog for Daisy’s taste but they couldn’t always be sure they’d have enough power for charging phones that were otherwise useless out in space anyway. Fresh, crisp print-outs from the road trip were on top, then worn, dog-eared ones from the early days of the Bus Kids whose slight fading and foxing around the edges only made them more precious, silly ones where she’d ambushed May with her phone and then scrambled away before the older agent could murder her. Her and Mack, Bobbi, and Fitz bundled up in line for the midnight premiere of _The Force Awakens_ , Hunter attempting to crack an egg with his forehead for a bet… Her and May at the DC Pride parade back in 2015, Daisy’s cheeks painted with pink, purple, and blue stripes courtesy of Jemma’s careful hand… Tucked away at the very back were the pictures she wouldn’t put up, the pictures of those she’d lost. Shots, mostly taken by Deke, from their last trip to Tahiti, of her and Coulson winning a hard-fought game of Pictionary, of Trip and Lincoln.

Holding the envelope carefully, Daisy reached into the backpack for Coulson’s letter, still sealed, and traced her fingertip across the ‘Daisy’ in black ink along the front of it.

“You know, the point of a letter is to open it,” a voice said from behind her, and Daisy turned to see May standing there, armed in her usual black leather jacket. The woman’s face was blank, but Daisy knew better than to believe whatever non-expression her old S.O. decided to wear today.

“I know,” Daisy said, taking one last look at the letter in her hands before sliding it behind the envelope of photographs. “I will, when I’m…when I’m ready.”

May nodded, watching as Daisy buried both envelopes under a pile of clothes in one of the drawers, then shut it with her foot. “Take-off in less than an hour.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said. She walked to the edge of her bunk, studying May’s face before pulling her into a hug. May held her just as tightly, untold magnitudes passing between them in just that simple gesture. “Promise me you’ll be okay?” Daisy asked once she’d pulled away, eyes digging into the specialist’s. “We’ll be back in a month at most for refuel, hopefully with Fitz.”

“I will,” May said. “There’s plenty to do around here to get S.H.I.E.L.D. up and running. Maybe we’ll even go legitimate again.” She looked at Daisy sternly. “Now, promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”

“Me? Reckless? Never,” she replied. May just shook her head, her exasperation betrayed by the slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Daisy hesitated, then just went for it, hugging the woman again, whispering, “I love you so much, May.”

“I love you too, Daisy,” May said. “And he was so proud of you. We both are.”

“Well, I’ll try not the crash the brand-new spaceship then,” Daisy joked, blinking away the water from her eyes. There was a long pause with both of them standing there, looking at each other, grief and understanding and care flowing in equal measures between them. “Goodbye,” she said finally.

“See you in a month,” May said, then turned to leave, beginning to walk away. “And I would be more concerned about Deke Shaw crashing this ship than you.”

“Yeah, but at least if _I_ do, I can repair it,” Deke said in a low tone obviously not meant for May’s hearing, sliding in next to Daisy. “Besides, she did hear the story where I am now an _excellent_ driver after just three days of practice? And I had never even seen a car before! Well, besides that school bus floating in sector thirteen. But what are _you_ gonna do if you crash the Zephyr, code it back into existence?”

Daisy rolled her eyes fondly, nudging his shoulder with her own. “You all settled in?”

“Yeah, right next door, though I’m not sure I’ll be using it much,” Deke replied with a smirk. “What about you?”

“Just about,” she said, pulling the last item out of her backpack. She held up the little hula doll for him to see , then carefully suction-cupped it on top of the shelf at the foot of the bed, tapping it gently with her thumb and making it wobble.

“Wait, I’ll be right back,” Deke said, dashing off around the corner. He returned two seconds later with the little bonsai tree from Portland cupped in his hands, which he placed gently next to the hula girl, righting the bi-flag-holding penguin figurine atop the soil from where it had fallen during the move. A small metal contraption was attached to the pot, extending up above the tree—a mini light fixture he had rigged up that Daisy recognized as the finished version of the parts he had been fiddling with back in the lab during her talk with Simmons.

“So it gets enough light,” he said happily, and Daisy smiled, hugging him to her side with her arm wrapped around him.

“Deke, Daisy,” Jemma said, appearing at the entrance to their bunk. Daisy could already tell privacy was going to become a big issue on this spacecraft over the next month. “Davis is doing final flight checks and Deke, could you check the jump drive again—”

“I checked it yesterday,” Deke said.

“Yes, but it was last used by evil aliens and the translations were done based off your knowledge of six numbers, so, you know, best to be certain,” she replied, though her tone was warm.

“…Copy that,” he said, extricating himself from Daisy’s arm. He headed off toward where the drive was installed muttering something about _the_ _Kree_ and _neglected education systems_. Simmons paused, her eyes sliding over the bunk and hula doll and the little bonsai tree next to it before she turned to follow him, a sly look on her face.

Daisy sighed; as mission leader, she should probably get to the cockpit and check in with Davis too. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out, curious as to who would possibly be texting her knowing they were about to ship out into the great beyond in less than an hour, where even the strongest cell signal couldn’t reach.

* * *

 **From:** Jemma Simmons

| **6:02 PM** | _You were saying about the great-grandbabies? ;)_  
---|---|---  
| **6:03 PM** | JEMMA  
  
_Read 6:03 PM_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and, we're out! 
> 
> I won't keep you long here, but just...thank you all so much for coming on this journey with me. This is not a fic I ever expected I'd write, but I'm so glad I did, and I'm even more thankful that all of you wonderful people decided to come along for the ride. There is one deleted scene that never made it in here that I haven't decided what to do with yet that exists thanks to the lovely T, and I'm not closing the door on more fics set in this universe in the future, so if there's something you particularly want to see, let me know! Also, special thanks to Z for some location-related advice for this fic <3
> 
> Other than that...here's to 2021 🥂


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